Reasons Why
by laloga
Summary: "Others have excuses; I have my reasons why." A collection of (primarily) romantic vignettes, loosely following game canon. F!Smuggler/Corso Riggs
1. Prologue

_FYI, the series title and summary quote are taken from the song "Reasons Why," by Nickel Creek, from their self-titled album. These and any future song lyrics are reprinted without permission._

_Also, I don't own Star Wars, SWTOR, or Corso. Sadly. :P Bioware, LucasArts and Disney (?) have that honor. :)_

* * *

**Reasons Why**

**Prologue**

There were a ton of questions surrounding the newcomer to Ord Mantell, but above all else, Corso Riggs wondered just how the captain gotten that scar on her face. He was awful at guessing ages, but he thought she was in her mid-twenties, like he was. Old enough to have seen a fair amount of trouble, at least.

She looked...well, _pretty _wasn't really strong enough of a word, but it worked for now; her features were delicate, her skin creamy pale, her voice – even with its lazy Corellian inflection – was polished. Despite the dust on her coat and boots – or maybe because of it – every part of her seemed to shine, enough so that the scar just looked a bit out of place.

Not that it took away from her appearance, not at all. If anything it made her even...prettier.

She had a familiar way about her too, a mannerism that set him at ease almost at once, and her cocky comments made him want to chuckle. As it was, he nearly forgot what they were talking about when she asked him his name, and as he spoke to her and Skavak he mentally scolded himself. Thirty seconds after meeting her and he was already in too far, to the point where he didn't want to think about how his first word to her had been a distinguished and elegant, "huh?"

Captain, Skavak called her, so Corso followed his lead. Captain Tannith Tainn – Corellian, he thought, judging from her accent and her bravado, but there was something distant about her that was a far cry from any Corellian he'd met, and he'd met a fair few. There was a strangeness to her eyes, blue like the highest dome of the sky, but not just the color. They held the same depth, too. The same sense of_...bigness, _the kind that made a man feel small but not insignificant. It was the kind of feeling he got when he looked at the stars_._ Her eyes pulled him like a tractor-beam, even though he didn't quite understand _why_ and was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate his interest.

It was clear from almost the moment he met her that the blaster on her hip wasn't for show and he didn't miss the hilt of a vibroblade glinting in the folds of her jacket. No matter how she'd gotten it, the scar made him think that she'd seen a bit of trouble but walked away from it intact, which made him oddly pleased even as he realized that he wanted to think of her as "Tannith" and not "the captain," which was not a good sign.

The more time he spent around her, things only got worse.

In more ways than one, too, starting with her ship and his beloved Torchy being stolen. The other thing that got worse was the way he couldn't stop himself from _looking _at her, even if it was just a quick glance while they fought side-by-side. She could hold her own in a fight, that was for sure, but it was impossible for him to _not _keep an eye on her – just in case. You know...in case she got herself into a spot of trouble she couldn't immediately shoot her way out of. If that happened, he thought _yeah, I'd like to be the guy that jumped in to help her out._

He couldn't help it. There was a part of him that always wanted to rescue a woman in trouble, even when she didn't seem to need – or want – a rescue. Even when she rescued _him _by pushing him to take the higher road, to make the harder, better choice when his vision was a haze of crimson and fury. Even when he saw the captain take down a room full of Imperials without so much as batting an eyelash, he wanted to help her.

Somehow.

At first he didn't know why he felt this way, aside from it being his nature and all. But he wasn't stupid – least, not like most thought he was – and eventually he figured it out.

When that scumsucker ran off with her ship and his Torchy, Corso watched her face twist into a knot of pain and suddenly it was a face that fit the scar it bore. The brassy Corellian air fell away and she looked a little too small, a little too fragile, to be standing on her own. Captain Tainn was not weak, not even a little, but in that moment he saw a softness to her and it brought out his more protective side.

Corso had lost a lot – more than most, less than many – but he didn't try to think about that stuff, instead choosing to focus his efforts on keeping this new person, a relative stranger, as safe as he could. It was why he'd given her Flashy – well, one of the reasons. Practically speaking, Flashy was better suited to a lady's smaller hands, and he liked knowing for certain that she had a decent blaster at her side.

The other reason – and there were so many reasons for anything he did when it came to the red-headed Corellian captain – was not even a little practical. It was downright silly and sentimental, but Corso couldn't help that part of himself, either.

So much of himself had been worked into Flashy that he thought when they inevitably parted ways and he never saw the captain again...well, he liked the idea of her keeping a little bit of _Corso _with her, wherever she went.

* * *

_A/N: The following chapters will feature more "stuff" happening, which is why this one is the intro. I've got a lot of ideas for interactions between Corso and my smugger, Tannith, so stay tuned. :)_

_Many thanks to _**clicketykeys**_ for her feedback on Corso! :D_

_I'll do my best to maintain a consistent update schedule, but Darth Real Life likes to fight for my attention. Normally, I write out an entire story before I post, but since this is a series of ficlets, they're being written as I play through the game and as ideas hit me. Luckily, FFN has a handy "follow" feature that should keep you appraised of any new updates, if you enjoy the fic. ;)_

_Thanks for reading! If you have any feedback, comments, or suggestions, I'm all ears. :D_

_Next time: heading to Coruscant._


	2. Coruscant I: Transition

**Coruscant I: Transition**

_Shuttle to Coruscant from Ord Mantell_

Captain Tannith Tainn was exhausted, but sleep refused to come.

Eyes closed, she leaned her head against the bulkhead and tried not to inhale. It wasn't just that the crowded shuttle smelled unpleasant – though it most certainly did – it was that it smelled _different _from her beloved _Lucky Strike. _There was no acrid tang of coolant from that hyperdrive leak she could never quite find; there was no trace of smoke from her favored brand of Corellian cigarras that she indulged in upon occasion; there was no rich dark scent of Kor Vella caf, brewed to perfection and piping hot.

There was only the body-odor from half a dozen species, some kind of overripe fruit smell that she didn't want to mull over, and the stink of standard, low-grade industrial caf that seemed to be everywhere.

She'd grown so accustomed to the _Strike's_ scents that _not_ smelling them only served to remind her just how much she'd lost, and it wasn't just the material things that she used on a daily basis. Tannith knew she could buy new clothes, food, and medical supplies. The loss of those items hurt, but it was a pain she could cope with.

Her ship, though, had been _everything._ Home. Safety. Freedom.

All of it _gone_.

For the umpteenth time since the job had turned sour something hard formed in her throat, so she pushed it down and tried to rein in her emotions. Sorrow was pointless; sorrow would do nothing but slow her down. Anger was more constructive. Anger would help her focus, keep her sharp and strong enough to get her shipback. With any luck, once her ship was hers again she'd have no more cause for sorrow and everything could go back to normal.

But she was too tired even for anger. Instead, knowing she'd regret it, Tannith inhaled deeply, trying to sink into that place of cool calm that would allow her to play her role and do what was necessary to get her ship back. The scent of body-odor made her nose wrinkle but she pushed past her reaction and focused, breathed.

Slowly, she felt herself relaxing. Beneath her head she could feel the faint vibration from the hyperdrive, and the steady hum was something of a comfort. She was in the stars, at least. She was on the move. That was always a good feeling.

Another breath. The scents were less bothersome now, especially as she turned her concentration away from _within _and focused it outward, to those around her. At least the shuttle was only crowded and not completely packed. Two Bothans were chatting to her right, perhaps three meters away, and she knew enough of their language to catch that they were debating politics. Sitting between herself and them, she heard a Twi'lek speaking in a singsong lilt, likely to a child, as he seemed to be reciting a nursery rhyme.

Tannith felt herself relax a little more. Just a little, though. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep for a while, perhaps not even until she had the _Lucky Strike_ back. Though of course it hadn't always been this way, lately it'd become next to impossible to sleep anywhere but on her beloved ship, no matter how tired she was. It didn't matter that she'd not slept more than a few minutes at a time since that slimy mudcrutch Skavak had stolen-

_Think about something else, _she chided herself, squeezing her eyes shut to mitigate pricking burn that had begun to form behind them. _Anything else._

The Force must have been with her, for in that moment a throat cleared above her head. When she looked up, Corso was holding out a cup of steaming caf and a protein bar. "Here, Captain; you looked like you could use a pick-me-up."

"Thanks, Corso," she said, accepting the cup and the bar, setting the latter on her lap while she sipped the former. It was watery and not nearly hot enough, but it left a pleasant trickle of heat down her throat and into her belly, and despite the taste she felt a little better.

Seeming satisfied, Corso took the seat beside her and thumbed towards the front of the vessel, where the pilot-droid was located. "I heard someone say that all shuttles going to Corrie are delayed, so we might be stuck here longer than we planned." He offered her a somewhat apologetic smile. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

_Fragging fantastic_. Tannith tried to force away her annoyance, but failed. It shouldn't have been this way. She _hated _having to rely on public transportation so she couldn't help but glare at the caf. When she spoke, she knew her voice was dark. "Of _course_ the shuttle is delayed. Not like we have anything better to do than sit in hyperspace and wait for the traffic-controllers to finish their sabacc games."

Corso was silent for a moment, seeming to study the other passengers, and she found herself wondering what he was thinking. Everything had happened so quickly on Ord Mantell, but already she felt as if she could maybe grow to like his steady presence at her side. He was a skilled fighter and seemed to be a decent sort of man – and he was, she had to admit, nice to look at. More than nice, actually. Warm brown eyes, dark hair, lips that looked soft despite the rugged appearance that his scars gave...

_Stop that, _she told herself, turning her attention back to the drink in her hand. _You barely know the guy. No matter what else he says, he's probably here just to get his darling blaster back. Once he has what he wants, he'll leave._

They didn't know each other that well at all, and though she detected no trace of dishonesty within him, she'd seen enough of the galaxy to know that it was dangerous to let someone else get too close. Besides, she'd learned a while ago that she was better off on her own because she was one of those people who was apparently ill-suited to the company of others.

Beside her, Corso shifted into his seat and gave a single, determined nod. "We'll find your ship, Captain. Skavak may have a head-start, but we'll catch him soon."

In a direct contrast to the caf, his optimism was refreshing, even if she didn't feel the same way. In any case, Tannith was too tired to voice any disagreement, so she only nodded and blew over the rim of her cup out of habit. A few minutes later, Corso's throat cleared again and she glanced his way, brow lifted in a silent query.

"You should eat something," he said, indicating the protein bar. "Maybe try to get some shut-eye. I'll keep a look out."

"I thought I was the one in charge?" Whatever kind of alliance that had formed between them was new and by necessity, but she couldn't help her teasing nature. He hadn't run, so far. Maybe she could push her luck a little bit.

The corner of his lips twitched in a smile even as he ducked his head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough. But in my defense, you looked like you were about to keel over a second ago."

She _was _tired; that wasn't the issue. The issue was that she knew there was no way in the nine Corellian hells she could fall asleep right now, maybe ever again. Letting her guard down was, as she'd so recently seen – again – an abysmally stupid thing to do, but it was apparently a lesson she still needed to learn.

The flare of levity she'd felt faded, and she sipped her caf again, more to give herself something to do than because she liked the taste of it. "Looks can be deceiving."

"Sometimes," he agreed, stretching his boots out a little and resting his hands in his lap. "But sometimes things are exactly what they seem."

The words struck a little too close to that guarded place where her heart was, so she did what she always did and tried to change the subject. "What about you? Aren't you hungry?"

His eyes slanted in her direction; she thought he seemed a little pleased that she'd asked about him. "Don't worry about me, Captain. I'm good."

"You ate something?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Tannith wrinkled her nose as she braced the caf cup between her knees and began to peel away the wrapper from the protein bar. "For Force's sake, Corso, we're the same age. It's bad enough you won't call me by my name...don't 'ma'am' me, okay?"

The grin he gave her was courteous but somehow completely disarming, just like the subtle twang of his accent. "Anything you want, Captain."

She blamed the faint bloom of heat in her cheeks to her tiredness, and didn't reply as she busied herself with eating the bar while he sat quietly at her side. It wasn't a filling meal, but she did feel a little better once she had something on her stomach.

She'd barely finished the bar when Corso offered to discard the wrapper, and as he threaded his way through the shuttle to the disposal unit at the other side she tried not to think that the place beside her felt empty. _Silly_. That was a silly thing to think, on top of everything else already on her mind.

Sighing, Tannith sipped her caf again and leaned her head back against the bulkhead, thinking to at least close her eyes for a few minutes. Her lids actually felt a little droopy, and she wondered if she'd be able to drop off, after all.

When he sat back down, it was not the light jostle of the seat that made her eyes open but the sudden reappearance of the warm, solid presence that she'd found herself growing accustomed to. Blinking, Tannith glanced around the shuttle in sleepy surprise, instinctively assessing the area for danger, then looked at her traveling companion.

"Sorry 'bout that, Captain," he said with a sigh. "I tried not to wake you."

"You didn't." She swirled the last of the caf in her cup but did not drink. Damn, her entire body felt heavy, weighed down with exhaustion, but she didn't think she could rest like she needed to. "I wasn't sleeping."

There were a few beats of silence before Corso spoke again. When he did, the pitch of his voice had dropped to a quieter register. "I meant what I said before, about keepin' an eye on things. I'm not goin' anywhere."

The words themselves were casual, but the meaning behind them resonated. It was not a plea for her to let her guard down, which would have instantly set her on high alert. It was not a request for her trust, or even her affection, though Force knew most other men would have asked both of her by now. Neither one would she give easily; perhaps he understood that on some level.

Throughout the chaos of the last few days, Corso had remained at her side while also somehow keeping enough distance to make her feel like she could breathe. _I'm not goin' anywhere. _Tannith turned the words over in her mind. He had stayed with her so far. He had asked for nothing and given everything, and a very, very tiny part of her heart whispered that it was a pattern that would continue.

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased and she sank into her seat a little more. After all, she was a light sleeper and she had every confidence that if anything did go wrong, she'd be awake in an instant.

And she was so tired.

Tannith inhaled again, but this time the smells of the shuttle were less obtrusive because they were overlaid with the smell of nerf-leather and blaster-polish that clung to Corso like a second skin. It was not, she realized, an unpleasant smell. New, but...nice. _Though we both need a shower._

She did not reply to him, but when her eyes closed again she realized with some surprise that sleep was indeed approaching, and she decided to welcome it. Maybe it would be brief, maybe it would only help a little, but she would take what she could get.

Her head was heavy, her hands loose and relaxed, and she felt the caf cup being gently lifted out of her fingers; she idly thought he'd had to shift closer to do so, for she was suddenly very aware of his shoulder and how close it was to her cheek.

Just a few centimeters away, really. Hardly anything. All of the distance was within, anyway. He was closer than she liked people to be, but it'd happened so naturally she hadn't thought to be alarmed. Rather, Tannith felt her body sink into sleep a bit more, felt her cheek rest against his shoulder, which tensed slightly, then immediately relaxed.

Her final thought was that it was a warm shoulder and she could do a lot worse right now than fall asleep upon it.

* * *

_A/N: __I'm always hesitant to write dialect and tend to believe that "less is more" in that instance. I did my best to capture Corso's distinctive Southern accent without going overboard, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)_

_Thanks for reading! Next time: Arrival on Corrie and one of my favorite cut-scenes from the game. _


	3. Coruscant II: Teamwork

**Coruscant II: Teamwork**

_Coruscant Spaceport_

As the Customs Droid cheerfully announced that there was an error of some kind with the captain's cargo logs, Corso's stomach sank. The sinking turned into an uncomfortable twisting when the droid chirruped that it was about to request assistance from an enforcement agent.

Instinctively, he scanned the area – casually, of course – to put his eyes on the nearest CSF agents and try to figure out where the exit was in this place. He _really_ didn't want to start off his first trip to the Core world with a skirmish, but he'd be damned if he let the captain get arrested within fifteen minutes of setting foot on-planet.

Beside him, Captain Tannith swore softly before glancing his way. "I think I can bluff us through, but I'll need a minute. See anyone official?"

There were none of the distinctive gray uniforms nearby, so he shook his head. "Looks clear," he said, moving to stand so that he could offer her some cover from the droid's optical sensors. "Need any help?"

"Nope. Just keep an eye out," she replied as she studied the customs kiosk with an appraising eye. Corso watched as she withdrew her pocket vibro, dropped to a crouch and began to pry open the lock panel with a nudge of the blade's tip against the hinges. Once the cover was open, she pulled out a datarod from a pouch at her belt and shot him a raised brow. "Unless there's a customs agent right next to me..."

_Blast. _He'd been staring at her – again. "Right, looking out," he said, turning away to scan the spaceport's interior once more, hoping the creeping heat in his neck was just his imagination.

The terminal was busy, which was a good thing when you were trying to stay under security's radar. Waves of travelers bustled through the area, greeting friends and family, tugging along screaming kids and generally creating a lot of helpful distractions, as not a one of them seemed to care about the crimson-haired woman kneeling before the kiosk.

Corso had no issue with law-breaking of this kind, but he felt that familiar pricking sensation along his back, the kind that usually meant trouble was coming. The coast was clear, though. Maybe it was just the crowd getting to him; he'd never been a fan of cities. There was too much smog and durasteel where there should be open sky and clean air, and while he was glad to be off Ord Mantell, he couldn't help feeling like he could hardly breathe on this Core world.

_Guess I'm just farm-boy at heart._

To add to Corso's own displaced feeling, the captain had seemed at ease on Coruscant the instant her boots had touched duracrete, and he envied her a little for that even as he wondered if she'd been here before or if she was just that sure of herself.

After about a minute he risked a glance her way. "You're still clear."

Intent on her work, she replied with an unintelligible mutter, so he looked around again. Despite the fact that no one seemed to be paying them any mind, Corso felt more than a little conspicuous, though he chalked it up to an overactive imagination, a dislike of cities and a stretch of hectic days. He'd been on edge a lot recently, though admittedly it wasn't all due to what Skavak had put them through.

_Them_. Him and Captain Tannith. Somehow they'd become traveling companions. He still wasn't quite sure how it'd happened, only that it had and that it felt oddly comfortable. For the captain's part, it was all but impossible to tell how she felt about the whole situation, other than upset her ship had been stolen. There had been a moment on the shuttle out here where he'd seen her let her guard down enough to sleep. It'd been a brief moment, but a nice one.

Really nice, actually. He could still feel the warmth of her cheek resting on his shoulder, long after the fact.

_Stop it, _he told himself. _Even if the captain can take care of herself just fine, she's still a lady. She deserves your respect, not fantasizing._

"That should do it."

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he watched as the captain got to her feet, dusting off her gloved hands with a satisfied look on her face. Corso looked between her and the customs droid, trying to ignore the unpleasant twist of nerves in his gut and the danger-prickles dancing along his spine. "All set, Captain?"

She nodded and began to re-enter her information to the kiosk; there was a moment where the tension was strung tighter and tighter, and Corso found himself holding his breath in anticipation, silently praying that whatever she'd done would work even as he thought over the best way to get the kriff out of this place, should worse come to worse.

Finally, the droid chirruped again, welcoming "Admiral Numinn" to the Core world, and Corso exhaled in a long, slow breath. Tannith – the _captain_, he corrected himself – shot him a pleased grin that made his stomach twist in a different way, for all that he tried to ignore the feeling.

"Thank the stars," she said as they made to leave the area. "I'm about to burst. You didn't happen to see a 'fresher nearby, did you?"

Before he could answer, they heard the all-too familiar squeal of the Customs Droid, only this time it sounded a bit petulant, and the captain swore under her breath. A glance out of the corner of his eye showed Corso that a group of gray-clad CSF officers had arrived at the little droid's station; judging by the dark looks being thrown in his and the captain's direction, he figured that the droid was ratting them out after all.

_So much for not getting arrested. _Some of the crowd had thinned, which meant that they could move easier, though there was less cover, and he debated for a moment before quickening his pace. A familiar thrill of adrenaline pulsed through his veins, an instinctive reaction to the fight-or-flight battle going on within his body.

But fighting right now would be pointless. He and the captain were tired and Corso figured that the area could be swarming with additional CSF officers with only a quick comm-call. "We can slip out one of the exits, up there," he murmured to the captain, who looked more annoyed than anything else. "If we hurry, they won't catch us."

"If we hurry, they'll _definitely_ catch us," she countered with a shake of her head, her ponytail swaying.

The officers had stepped away from the droid and were moving through the crowd, very obviously searching for _someone. _Corso took a deep breath but it did nothing to slow the agitation coiling in his gut. "What do-"

"Just keep walking." Her voice was calm, so much so that the Corellian accent had smoothed out a little, taking on the barest lilt of Coruscanti. "Act like we've done nothing wrong."

Nodding, Corso tried to swallow his nerves and do as she said, but he didn't think it was working. He still felt like a ronto was stamping on his stomach and his heart had started racing. Even his kriffin' palms were sweating. He could hear the steady tread of the CSF agents behind them, see the gray-uniformed officers searching for him and the captain.

_Kriff, _they'd barely been on-planet for a half-hour. He'd figured they'd wind up in trouble eventually, he'd just hoped it would happen a little later.

_Blasted Corrie. Blasted customs droid. Blasted-_

"Corso."

He didn't know how it happened, only that it did. One second he was reaching a state of agitation – which was silly, because he knew perfectly well that he could handle himself in a fight – and the next there was something small but strong holding his arm, just above his elbow.

The captain. The captain had taken a hold of his arm; he could feel the warmth of her even through their clothing. "Relax," she murmured to him, and his body obeyed her as if on instinct. "Remember what I said about bluffing our way through?"

"Yeah," he said, but he didn't really know what he was acknowledging. The moment she'd touched him, the final threads of coherent thought had unraveled so that he was only dimly aware of his pace slowing, matching her casual stride. They walked together, slowly but not too slowly, and she kept her hand on his arm as if they were a young couple on-planet for perfectly legitimate business and had _not_ just tried to slice their way through customs.

They walked in silence until they reached one of the seating areas that were scattered around the spaceport. There, the captain paused as if to examine one of the directional holo-maps affixed to the wall and spoke to Corso in a low, quiet voice, not removing her hand from his arm. "I can't see them over the crowd. Can you?"

She was shorter than him, not by much but enough so that he had the better vantage point. As casually as he could, Corso shot a sweeping glance behind them under the pretense of scratching his neck. There was a cluster of CSF agents by one of the area's 'freshers, but they weren't looking at him or the captain, and he felt a slip of relief. "I think we lucked out, Captain. They're over by those 'freshers, and they don't look like they're lookin' for us."

Unable to help his grin, he glanced back at her and noticed her furrowed brow and expression of displeasure, both of which immediately set him on edge again. "What's wrong?"

She dropped her hand from his arm quickly, almost as if she'd forgotten it was even there, and for a moment he could still feel her touch. "I still have to use the 'fresher, but there's no way I'm going to push my luck anymore." Blue eyes met his and she sighed. "Guess I can hold it a while longer until we get out of here."

But the moment she'd said the word "'fresher," he'd turned to study the holo-map, and the moment she finished speaking he shook his head. "Your luck's still holding, Captain," he said as he indicated the map. "There's one not too far from here, and on the way out, too."

The captain beamed at him but said nothing else as she made to dart off, and his first reaction was concern that they'd be spotted by the CSF agents if she took off running through the crowd. That, of course, was the only reason he reached out and touched her elbow, adding a quiet "Captain," to get her attention. He half-expected her to ignore him or shake off his hand like it was a nettle-fly; instead, she immediately slowed her pace to a more casual one, though he saw her wince.

"Hang in there," he murmured, and was pleased to see her features smooth as she nodded once. Together, they made their way through the crowded spaceport, still walking casually. Only when they reached the 'fresher did he realize that he hadn't let go of her elbow and that she hadn't asked him to.

The idea pleased him a lot more than he figured it should have.

Before he could dwell on what _that _meant, she shot him a smile that was pure relief. "Thank all that's holy," she said right before she broke away from him and rushed for the 'fresher's entrance.

While he waited, Corso cast a glance around the area and noted the lack of security; he pulled out his holo-comm and began to search through the contacts, trying to turn his mind to the next step of their plan, but the bulk of his thoughts stayed with the captain. It gave him a chuckle to think she'd hardly sweated the CSF officers, but finding a 'fresher in an emergency...well, _that_ was a cause for concern, at least to Captain Tannith.

Finally he found Darmas Pollaran's holo-code. With any luck, the gambler would have some useful intel or could at least point them in the right direction for their manhunt. For the first time since arriving on Coruscant, Corso felt truly optimistic about their chances. They'd find Skavak; they'd get back her ship and his Torchy.

After that...well, only time would tell. Corso hoped that he and the captain wouldn't part ways for a while, but it was impossible to know the future, especially when so many things were up in the air. He figured she'd want to go her own way; she seemed like something of a loner. Maybe their paths would cross again, if he was lucky.

Real lucky.

The thought made his stomach twist again, except this time he recognized the feeling for what it was, and gave a sigh of resignation. Ignoring his attraction wouldn't make it go away, so his only other option was to keep it under wraps and hope she didn't notice. For now, his focus had to be getting back her ship. For now, that would have to be enough.

_Maybe later, there might be more-_

Abruptly, he cut off the thought. One step at a time; there was no use putting the hover-cart before the eopie. The captain did not need a would-be suitor slobbering all over her boots, she needed a good man by her side and watching her back.

Corso wanted to be that man. He thought he'd done a pretty decent job so far, and hoped she'd let him stick around, once their mission was over.

When she emerged, he told her about his contact on Corrie, and after a brief call to Darmas, they set off again, discussing what was to come. As they were leaving the spaceport, she shot him a pleased look that made his insides get warm and jumpy again.

"We make a good team, don't we, Corso?"

"Yeah," he said, ensuring that his voice was as casual as his gait. "We sure do."

* * *

_A/N: I took a few "creative liberties" with this scene, as far as game-canon is concerned. ;) Also, I've written a fair amount of Star Wars, but from a different era, so please excuse any technological disparities._

_On a similar note, the passage of time in-game is unclear, at least to me, so I've taken more creative liberties in that area as well. For the purpose of this story, the arrival on Coruscant is a little over a week since Skavak stole the captain's ship. Please let me know if you know of a timeline somewhere. :)_

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: fighting Black Sun gangsters and gravity._


	4. Coruscant III: Trust

**Coruscant III: Trust**

_You got me lookin' up, _

_Even when I'm fallin' down._

_You got me crawlin' out of my skin._

_You got me wonderin' why,_

_I'm underneath this big ol' sky..._

"Stopping the Love," by KT Tunstall, from the album, _Eye To the Telescope_

_Black Sun Territory..._

Unraveling her body from a neat roll, Tannith popped up behind a stack of storage crates in the old warehouse and swept her eyes across the scene before her. Corso was engaged in some heavy-duty fighting with three gang members, all of whom were pouring blaster-fire over him with vicious intent. He'd been struck once on his left arm, not badly, but enough to make him angry to step up the ferocity of his own attack despite the fact that she knew he must be in pain from the blaster-burn.

The way Corso Riggs fought, though, almost made her think he was invincible.

_He_ certainly seemed to think he was.

"There's more where this came from," he called out, ducking beneath a hail of plasma shots from the nearest Black Sun gangster.

He punctuated his blaster fire with a raucous battle-cry that made her want to smile, despite the dangerous nature of their situation. After nearly two weeks on Corrie, not to mention the weeks prior to this on Ord Mantell, she'd become accustomed to Corso's fighting style and he to hers, so they'd turned into a rather effective team.

Their task had been accomplished so it was time to retreat, but right now she and Corso were outnumbered, outgunned and injured. While fighting the group that had latched onto her, Tannith had taken a skimming shot to her knee, but it was only an unpleasant sting right now, and she'd managed to take the gangsters out in the end.

With Corso's help, of course. Even after she'd seen his arm get shot, he'd drawn the bulk of their attention and allowed her time to break free and toss a few grenades in their mix, creating her own brand of chaos while he fought so single-mindedly.

She hoped his injury wasn't as bad as it looked. She'd often said he should wear a helmet, but he chose not to, claiming that it was impossible to find one that would fit properly over his dreadlocks. Not for the first time, she was grateful for his portable shield generator and his lighting-fast reflexes, both of which kept him relatively safe while she formulated her next attack.

Even through the dim light she could make out the barrel of hyperdrive coolant a few meters from where Corso was fighting; though streaks of rust coated its sides she could see it was intact, and a quick mental calculation told her that one, well-placed shot would disable the lot of their enemies and perhaps give them time to get away.

Tannith took a deep breath to steady her racing heart and another to give volume to her voice. "Corso," she shouted as she glanced around the warehouse for any other assailants. "We're leaving...get them to the barrel!"

It was a credit to how much time they'd spent fighting together that he didn't need any clarification; she watched his head tilt once in acknowledgment of her words before he darted towards the coolant barrel, hollering insults to the gang members, who pursued.

Tannith was ready. She trained Flashy's muzzle on the barrel and the instant before she knew Corso would be free of danger, she squeezed the trigger once, gently. As always, Flashy responded beautifully to her touch and Tannith watched in appreciation as the plasma bolt flew across the warehouse to meet its mark.

As the resulting explosion sent a rumbling shudder through the area, the three Black Sun gangsters yelped but did nothing else as the engine-coolant stuck to their clothes and any exposed skin; the coolant itself wasn't dangerous, but it caused a nasty – or helpful, depending on one's perspective – freezing reaction when it came into contact with oxygen.

She and Corso had a reprieve, but only a temporary one.

Corso had sprung away just in time to avoid the blast, another testament to how well they worked together, and – she realized with a start – to how much he trusted her. It would have been so easy for her to simply shoot without waiting for him to be clear, after all. The coolant wouldn't have done much worse to him than it was doing to their foes, but she didn't like the thought of him getting hurt because of her decisions.

_Any more than he's already been, I guess, _she thought, rising from her crouch as her companion came jogging over, his forehead shining with sweat and his eyes alight with the thrill of the battle. By now, Corso risking his life for her benefit had become somewhat common, for all that he never once complained. Just the opposite, actually; he threw himself into her plans with an enthusiasm that never failed to surprise her, all while retaining a sense of optimism that was more than a little humbling.

Despite the fact that he was covered in dirt and grime from the fight, not to mention flecks of blood, he was grinning at her. "Nice shot, Captain."

"Thanks." She eyed the blistered chunk of his upper arm beneath a seam in his armor, which had not protected him. "Do you need a kolto patch?"

"Nah, I'm good right now. Are you hurt?"

"Nothing permanent." Ignoring the twinge in her knee, Tannith glanced at the fallen Black Sun gang members, who were already starting to stir. "It's time to haul jets. They won't stay down forever."

"We could finish 'em," he offered with a lift of his weapon and jerking his head towards the fallen gangsters.

They'd blasted so many Black Sun members today, she had a feeling that they'd already made a significant dent in the gang's numbers. "I don't think three more will make a huge difference. Let's just go."

"Right," he said, shouldering his rifle with all the efficiency of a soldier. "Lead on, Captain."

They were deep in the underbelly of Coruscant, but thankfully there was an air-taxi station about five city-blocks away, so they set off at a brisk jog. Normally it wouldn't have been much of a run, but injured as they were, Tannith wondered how far they'd make it before someone caught up with them. The gangsters seemed to be everywhere down here, and from what she'd seen they were vicious and vindictive; it was likely she and Corso would have pursuers before too long.

That in mind, she glanced around as they jogged down the oddly-quiet streets, but she didn't see anything overtly dangerous, only rows of dark buildings and the occasional maintenance droid. The only sounds were the thump of their boots and the occasional crunch of broken glass beneath their feet as they ran.

"I don't like it, either," he said suddenly, his breath huffing. "It's too quiet. Creeps me out."

If the bulk of her energy hadn't been focused on their getaway, his words would have made her shiver. Thank the Force, she caught a glimpse of the air-taxi platform ahead, the glowing sign a beacon in the darkness. "We're nearly there."

Once they were jogging up to the platform, Corso made a noise of relief and they exchanged a smile; it was hardly a minute before they were settled in one of the open-topped vehicles that were ubiquitous on this world.

As the droid-pilot maneuvered the taxi, Tannith leaned forward to give their destination when the air was split by shrieking blaster-fire.

Instinctively, she ducked to avoid being hit, though a moment later she twisted in her seat and tried to get a visual of who the kriff was shooting at them. A pair of gangsters – she didn't recognized them as being from the warehouse – were at the mounted on swoops at the platform's edge, firing for all they were worth at the little taxi as it sped into the night.

All of this she processed the instant before Corso's voice rang out above the sound of blaster-bolts. "Captain, look out-"

But before he could say another word, a spray of sparks erupted from the right engine nacelle at the rear of the vehicle, causing the taxi to lurch to one side. With a shout, Corso was tipped from his seat and tossed over the taxi's edge.

Tannith didn't think. Instead, she lunged forward and seized his gloved hand with both of hers. She stopped his fall, barely, and winced as his weight tugged at her entire body, threatening to pull them both into the void below. This sector felt so dark all around them, even lit up by directional signs, ads, and streaks of plasma from the incoming shots. Those Black Sun sleemos were persistent, if nothing else.

But there was only one thing that she cared about, right now. Wind tore at her hair, tugging it free of its elastic and pushing it into her sight, but she ignored that, too, as she gripped Corso's hand as tightly as she was able. "Hang on, Corso," she called to him over the screaming wind. "Just hang on. I won't let you go."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Captain," he called back, reaching his other hand up towards the taxi's edge. There was hardly any fear in his voice at all, but her heart clutched with dread enough for them both.

What would she do without him?

The thought startled her but there was no time to dwell on it. Blaster-fire continued to streak past, but it was less prevalent, now. Perhaps they were finally out of shooting distance. Twisting her head towards the pilot-droid, Tannith shouted over the sound of the wind. "He's going to fall! Tip us back, or land or _something_!"

The only response was a mechanized one that made her teeth grit._"Damage detected. Unauthorized use of the Coruscant Air-Taxi service will result in a fine of one-hundred credits-"_

"Never mind, you fragging waste of circuits." She looked back at Corso, who'd managed to grab a hold of the edge with his other hand, his legs swinging beneath him as he tried to find a purchase on the taxi's underside. She wanted to help but was unwilling to release her grip for fear she'd drop him, so she tried to brace her knees against the seat and pull him up as best she could.

But he was so heavy with his armor and she could feel her injured knee threatening to buckle. _No. _She refused to let him go, not after everything they'd been through, not after he'd risked himself again and again for her sake. She gritted her teeth and ignored the slice of pain in her knee, tightened her grip on his wrist and tugged harder. "Hang on, Corso...I've got you..."

His eyes met hers. Within them was no fear, not a trace. "I know."

Her heart tightened but she shoved the feeling away, called on what reserves of strength she had left and gave one final pull. At the same time, Corso grunted and managed to heft himself up and over the edge with his free hand while she pulled on the other. Then she was tipping backward, falling onto the padded seat of the taxi, beautifully crushed by his weight as he collapsed on top of her, his face inches from her own.

For a moment they stared at one another, a breath apart and gasping, and she was more _aware_ of him than she'd ever been before. The press of his armored body was crushing but not confining, and she could smell his familiar scent underwritten with sweat and the acrid tang of plasma.

His gaze had not left hers; she could see him assessing her for damage, even now, even when he was surely in pain. Corso was larger than her, stronger, but there was a gentleness to him that never failed to surprise her, and the look in his eyes as she'd held him over the edge had been nothing but utter and complete trust – in her, of all people.

Perhaps it was the threat of nearly losing him that made her realize how much she'd come to rely on his presence, or maybe her emotional spike was merely a product of the adrenaline surging through her veins; either way, Corso trusted her, and as she tried to catch her breath, Tannith realized that she wanted to return that trust, somehow. She wanted to trust him, too.

"Are you okay?" she managed, blinking back the moisture that was forming in her eyes and telling herself it was from the wind of the taxi's passage through the air.

Corso groaned and pushed himself upright, letting her breathe properly. "I've been better. How's your knee?"

_Who cares about my fragging knee when you nearly fell to your death?_ Tannith took a deep, cleansing breath and sat up, swiping at her eyes. "Fan-kriffing-tastic."

Nodding, he rubbed at his injured arm and exhaled, then shot her a wry look. "Might have to use that kolto patch, after all, Captain."

She nodded and reached into the pouch at her belt where she kept their med supplies. When she handed him the kolto packet, he offered her one of his trademark smiles, though it was softer than any she'd seen so far. His voice, too, was quiet, especially compared to the sound of the wind. "Thanks for savin' my hide. Again."

Giddy with relief, Tannith gave a helpless laugh as she reached up to gather the crimson strands of her hair. "I'm happy to, Corso. Your hide is definitely worth saving, trust me."

His head ducked, but she could see that he was grinning, and again she marveled at his positive attitude. The vehicle continued to glide along, seemingly oblivious to its passengers' former distress or its smoking engine, and she idly considered making a complaint to the Corrie Department of Transit.

Neither she nor Corso spoke as he ripped open the packet and removed the strip of kolto, when a considering look crossed his face. "Guess we should start a tab or somethin'. Keep track of all the times you bail me out."

Any giddiness she'd felt before drained away at his words, and she felt cold all of a sudden. Tannith blinked into the night air and shook her head."You wouldn't need bailing out if I didn't put you in harm's way all the time."

"Maybe," he replied, smoothing the strip over the injury on his upper arm. It'd have to be properly cleaned and disinfected later, but at least the pain would ebb a little bit. Once it was in place, his eyes lifted to hers again and he gave her a tentative smile. "But honestly...there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"There's a whole galaxy out there, Corso," she countered. He regarded her calmly, as if he'd not almost been tossed to his death mere minutes ago, and she felt that clenching in her heart again as she continued. "You could go anywhere you wanted. You don't have to stay with me."

He didn't reply right away; it was only after the the droid-pilot's cheerful announcement that they were about to dock that Corso slanted her a look that she wasn't quite sure how to read.

"That's true, Captain," he said with a shrug that she thought was meant to be more casual than it came across. "But here I am."

* * *

_A/N: I love shooting those barrels in-game, and couldn't resist adding them, here. :)_

_Thanks for reading! Next time: they "whys" of flirting._

_Shoulda mentioned this before, but there will probably be spoilers later on...I'll try to let you know ahead of time. ;)_


	5. Coruscant IV: Honesty

**Coruscant IV: Honesty**

_Back room_

_Dealer's Den Cantina_

_Old Galactic Market_

"Nobody's going to replace you, farm boy."

The captain's words rang in Corso's head, again and again, and as a result he had to work pretty hard to fight back his pleased grin even as he managed to sputter out some kind of reply. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice, though he caught Darmas Pollaran giving him a curious, slightly amused look, like he wasn't sure if the whole thing was a joke or not.

_Laugh all you want at this "farm boy," Darmas_, Corso thought, lifting his chin a bit and meeting the information broker's eyes. _She made it pretty clear she don't want you._

It was a good realization to have reached. Until now, she'd done a bit of flirting with the other man, enough so that Corso had really started to wonder if she was interested or if it was an act. He'd seen her bluff her way through enough situations to know that she was capable of playing that game...well, more than capable. Pretty kriffin' good, actually.

But her words – at least to Corso – seemed to reveal where her interest lay. He felt light, like if he wanted, he'd be able to launch himself into the atmo with one leap.

Darmas seemed to recognize this as well; the card-player seemed like he knew when the odds were against him, so he stood and excused himself from their company, citing a waiting sabacc game and promising to return later.

The moment he left the room, Corso glanced at the captain, who was still seated on the padded lounge-chair. "So...we wait?"

Her lips pursed, wrinkling the scar on her left cheek. "Apparently."

There was nothing in the word that suggested she was pleased about being left to stew here, so Corso tried to lighten the mood. "Least we're not gettin' shot at," he said with a shrug. "That's a nice change."

"Are you getting tired of working with me already?" she asked in a teasing voice that made his ears get hot and his stomach do a Selonian samba. It was the tone she used to flirt with, and he had to admit...it was more than a little alluring when directed his way. No wonder Darmas had fallen over himself to help her.

"No way, Captain," he heard himself say. Damn, but he sounded so...plain when compared to that smooth-talking, I-always-have-the-right-words Darmas Pollaran.

But she either didn't notice, or didn't care. Instead, she gave him a little smile and indicated the seat beside her. After a moment of internal debate as to how close to her he should plant himself, Corso slid the strap of his blaster-rifle over his shoulder and took a seat about an arm's length beside her, resting the weapon in his lap and casting a look around the cantina's back room.

It wasn't a dive by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't a place he'd want to spend a lot of time, if he'd had the choice. There were a few too many girls in skimpy outfits parading just outside the open doorway, and the scent of ale and stale perfume lingered in the air right along with the synthesized, jukebox music. Within the room, though, was relatively private, and for the first time since arriving on this world, he and the captain were alone and at rest.

With that thought, he shot her another glance. Her eyes had lidded, her head was leaning back along the cushions and she appeared to be sleeping. Before he could feel awkward about the silence that had sprung up between them, she adjusted her position and exhaled. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Corso blinked at her in surprise. "Offend me? When?"

"With the 'farm boy' comment," she replied, opening her eyes fully and regarding him. "You seemed kind of...discombobulated, when I said it. If I did offend you, I'm sorry."

"No reason for you to be sorry, Captain," he said quickly. "I didn't mind." He chuckled and ran his fingers over his rifle, absently checking for any carbon scouring that he hadn't had a chance to clean off. "I've been called a lot worse things, trust me."

A half-smile quirked at her mouth and she nodded once. "I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in silence for a few minutes while he looked over his blaster, and while he was absorbed in the task he forgot to feel awkward; during this, she watched his hands, giving the appearance that she was studying his technique or something. Finally, he cleared his throat, causing her to glance up. "I'm kind of relieved, actually."

"Why?" Her head tilted in curiosity.

Kriff, his face was getting warm again, heated by some weird combination of embarrassment and happiness, but he'd made up his mind. "I thought you were...sweet on Darmas."

When amusement flashed in her eyes, he felt a moment's uncertainty of her reply, then she smiled in earnest. "Nope."

"But you..." He trailed off, unsure of both how to voice his thoughts on the matter, and of how they'd be received. Finally he sighed and shrugged. "You seemed interested, there for a minute."

She shook her head, her crimson hair swaying gently with the motion. "It's just a game, Corso. Flirting, I mean."

"A game." He repeated the word slowly, not sure he understood what she was getting at.

"It's a way to get what I want, quickly and easily," she said with a slight shrug. "I learned a long time ago that it's easier – and less complicated – to play nice with folks when you can. They're more inclined to work with you if you treat them kindly."

"Makes sense," he replied, nodding, though something she'd said didn't sit right with him. "But you don't think...ah, never mind."

"What?"

For a moment, Corso pretended to study his rifle again, half-thinking that he hadn't had a chance to properly clean it in some time, as they'd been running around like crazy these last couple of weeks. Everything had been moving so fast since they'd met, and in a lot of ways he felt entirely comfortable – maybe _too _comfortable, sometimes – around her, but in other ways...he didn't think he knew her at all.

Corso met her eyes again and hoped that she wouldn't get offended. "I dunno, Captain. It's your call, of course, but if it were me...I'd want the person I was dealing with to be honest, over everything else. Even if she – they – didn't, ah, like me like _that_; I'd want honesty."

At this, her eyes took on that strange distance they did when she grew lost in her own thoughts. "Honesty is a noble thing, Corso, and it would be nice if everyone in the galaxy thought like you do. But the truth is-" she gave a slow shake of her head, and her gaze reoriented back to him. "-being honest with people all the time will get you hurt – or worse."

"I know that," he replied with a heavy sigh. "But I don't have to like it."

She gave a light chuckle that made him smile, despite the sense of unease he'd gotten from her words. He figured she'd been hurt before, but so far he'd figured it was wiser not to push her to reveal anything of herself unless she wanted to. Sometimes they got close, skirting the edge of her past, but she always pulled back and changed the subject, or redirected the conversation away from anything too personal.

Like right now.

"A little flirting is harmless," she said, using the toe of her left boot to pull down the heel of the right. "It doesn't mean anything, not really. Darmas knows that as well as I do. He plays the game, same as me."

The boot fell to the floor with a faint _thud_, and as she went to work on the other, she paused and regarded him with those blue eyes of hers, giving him the impression that she could read his thoughts. "I'm not 'sweet' on him, Corso."

There was the flirting tone again, and he liked it, but he wanted more from the moment. Maybe all the talk of playing games was getting to him; maybe he was bolstered by her "farm-boy" comment from earlier. It didn't matter; Corso knew that he was hopeless at games like the ones she was so good at, and simply wanted an honest answer from the woman sitting beside him. He decided to try his own luck for once.

With that, he set the butt of his rifle carefully down on the floor, leaning the muzzle against the lounge-chair, then turned to face her fully. "I'm a pretty tough guy, Captain. There's not a lot you could tell me – if anything – that I wouldn't be able to handle." He offered her the kindest, warmest smile he could and added: "Try me."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted a little, giving away her surprise. For the long, long minute until she spoke he was certain he'd mucked up and pushed too far, then she nodded slowly, looking thoughtful again. "Darmas reminds me of...someone I used to know."

It wasn't hard to figure out what she meant. "An old flame?"

"Yeah." She sighed and rubbed her hands along her arms as if she were cold. "Darmas is older than Jarrett was, but he has the same way with words, the same kind of refined attitude."

The heaviness in her voice told him that whatever had happened with this "Jarrett" guy had been unpleasant, but he wanted to make sure. "What happened with Jarrett?"

"What always happens with men like that. When we met I was young and inexperienced, and he was older and charming and seemed to know everything." A frown crossed her face, but it was not a totally unhappy one; she seemed to be considering something. "Jarrett was exciting, and my life at the time was very...well, I felt trapped, and he presented a way out."

"Did he leave you, later?"

"Yeah. I should have seen it coming. I would have, now, but..."

Her words trailed off and he felt a flare of sympathy at the look of sorrow that had crossed her features. "No vision's better than hindsight," he quoted. "I'm sorry, Captain. That's...well, that's really low."

"Thanks, but I was stupid, too," she replied, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I mean, it hurt when he left. But..." A faint frown came over her face, and Corso leaned forward, anxious to hear more now that she was speaking so frankly. "Jarrett taught me a lot. When we met, I'd been sheltered for most of my life. I wouldn't have thrived in this new life if not for him, and I _definitely_ wouldn't have gotten the _Strike_."

Corso's brows lifted and she gave a small, pleased chuckle, all traces of sorrow having fallen away. "It's a long story, but there was some...er..._confusion _about my share of creds from this one really difficult job. I wound up spending both his cut and mine on the _Strike._" She shot Corso a small wink. "Oops."

They shared a smile before she leaned back in her seat again, but didn't close her eyes. Instead, she withdrew a pack of cigarras from her jacket pocket and tapped it against the flat of her palm; her gaze had turned distant again, but heavier this time, like the memories were weighing her down, and he felt a little sorry for pushing her to talk at all, even though he was glad to know more about her.

Neither of them spoke while she lit the cigarra and blew a stream of pale smoke into the air, where it merged with the sounds and smells of the cantina beyond. Once she'd taken a few long drags, she glanced his way again. "Yes, Jarrett hurt me, but it wasn't all bad. I suppose things balanced out in the end."

Corso couldn't help his scowl at the thought of Tannith – the captain – being hurt like she'd been. Though he'd never met this "Jarrett" fellow, he despised the guy already. "Maybe, but if you ever see that mudcrutch, point him out to me so I can give him a good punch in the face."

"Will do. I think he's retired, though." She flicked the cigarra's end into a nearby ashtray, then cleared her throat as she gave Corso another, small smile. "That wasn't so painful, I guess."

He couldn't help his grin, nor the mild roll of his eyes. "Talkin' about your life?"

Nodding, she took another drag; the scent of the cigarra was spicy and a little sweet, and not really unpleasant. "Thank you for listening."

_Anything you want, _he thought, though he only shrugged. "Thanks for sharing." After a beat he decided to risk pushing his luck just a tiny bit more. "If we're goin' to work together, Captain, it helps to get to know one another a little bit. I meant what I said about being able to handle what you throw at me."

The burning tip of the cigarra flared brightly as she finished it off, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. When she spoke again her voice was warm, as was her gaze on him. "I know. You are tough, Corso. It's one of the reasons I'm glad we came across each other."

Heat flared in his cheeks and he nodded, pleased beyond all reason at her words. "I'm glad we found each other, too." He paused, then cleared his throat. "In the interest of honesty...you were right about me being...what was that word you used?"

"Discombobulated," she said, folding her knees up and tucking her feet under her so that she was half-reclining on the chair. "It means...out-of-sorts, kind of distressed."

Corso frowned a little at the word, then shook his head. "Well, I was a little 'discombobulated' before, but it wasn't...it wasn't in a bad way. I wasn't 'distressed.' Kind of the opposite, actually." He paused again, wondering if he really was about to say this, then decided to just go for broke. "You kind of...throw me off-balance, sometimes, but I like it. Keeps me on my toes."

As he spoke, she'd taken to settling back into the cushions, giving him the impression that she was about to drop off to sleep. He hoped she would; they both probably needed the rest, but he decided to stay awake as long as he could, if only to keep an eye on things.

"In the interest of honesty," she murmured once she was still, a faint smile crossing her face as she regarded him. "You do the same to me, farm-boy."

He couldn't help the spike of lightness at her words, a lot stronger than the one he'd felt before, and he was sure if he stood up, he'd be instantly propelled into orbit.

_ Farm-boy._

Corso grinned.

* * *

_A/N: A bit more of Tannith's past. I just love that "farm-boy" line, so I had to work it in somehow. :)_

_Next time: Cantinas and ale and troopers, oh my!_


	6. Coruscant V: Old History

**Coruscant V: Old History**

_ Mariyk's Cantina_

_ Senate Commercial District_

As he stood beside the captain and surveyed the posh seating area, Corso felt his skin crawl.

It wasn't a new sensation, or a nice one, so he tried to ignore it. He'd grown used to doing so. Matter-of-fact, he'd kind of grown used to Coruscant in general over the last couple of weeks, so that now the constant press of people was still vexing but not _quite_ as troublesome as he'd initially thought it to be. A lot of that had to do with the fact that he and Captain Tannith had seen a good amount of action since arriving here, which took up most of his attention, but he also considered himself a pretty adaptable sort of guy, anyway.

This planet contained its share of challenges, for sure, but Corso had found himself able to deal with whatever Corrie tossed their way. Black Sun gangsters, he could handle; there were a lot of them, but numbers were no match for pure talent. The low-lives in the Migrant Merchants' Guild he could handle as well; despite their ferocity, he and Tannith – or _Captain_ Tannith, as he still tried to think of her – were more than a match for those blowhards.

It was this place, the Senate district, that made him feel like a ronto in a crystal shop, like any second he'd step the wrong way and knock something over. All around them, he could see ladies in shimmersilk dresses chatting with guys who wore blades and blasters for show – expensive, gleaming weapons that had obviously never once seen use. Every one of those folks was perfumed and perfectly styled, and there wasn't a single smudge of dirt _anywhere._

Corso had never felt quite so out-of-place.

But they had a job to do, so he pushed his discomfort aside and inclined his head to the captain. "Do you see him?"

They were here to meet a contact of hers, some Republic soldier she knew from her past. It had been her idea to get in touch with him, though Corso had gotten the sense that she didn't like the notion. He'd asked, but she'd only said something about this guy being someone she could trust who was handy with a blaster-cannon.

All Corso really knew was that they had to venture to the Justicars' turf, and the captain had thought it necessary to bring backup for this particular job. While he liked to think that he was good enough of a fighter to take the hits for them both, Corso understood there was strength in numbers, and if this guy was as good as she claimed, it would be smart to bring him along.

It did sting his pride a bit, but he decided he'd rather have a bruised ego than a broken rib – or worse. The more troublesome matter was the fact that she'd been so reluctant to tell him anything more than what she had, which made his imagination run wild as to just who this guy was.

Her brow was furrowed and she stood on her tiptoes, searching the crowd, until she made a noise of relief and glanced up at Corso. "There he is. In the back."

Now that he knew where to look, Corso could see a tall, heavily armored Human man seated in a booth at the back of the cantina, beside the jukebox. A single arm was lifted in a greeting that Captain Tannith returned as she and Corso threaded their way through the crowd.

Once they reached the table, the man rose to greet them. He was a few inches taller than Corso, with a nasty slashing scar that ran across his face and the standard, buzzed haircut of most military types. His armor was scratched but clean, and he moved like he was totally at ease in this place.

"Hey, Tan," he said as he enveloped the captain in what looked like a crushing embrace. "I've got drinks coming. How are you?"

She pulled back and Corso's heart sank a little when he saw she was smiling. "Same as ever, Boz," she replied lightly.

Gesturing for them to sit, the Republic soldier lifted a brow. "That bad, huh?"

The captain rolled her eyes and slid into an empty chair, indicating Corso, who took a seat beside her and did his best not to glower at the other man. "This is Corso Riggs. Corso, this is Sergeant Bozen Antilles."

"From Special Forces. Boz for short," the trooper said with a nod to Corso, though he turned back to the crimson-haired woman immediately. "And, it's _Lieutenant _now, Tan."

_Tan. _Corso still had trouble thinking of her as "Tannith," and this guy knew her well-enough to call her by a nickname. He wished the notion didn't bother him as much as it did.

The captain's brows lifted. "You got a promotion?"

Even though he was nearly reclining in his chair, Boz offered her a sharp salute. "Yes, ma'am. It was the least they could do after all that idiocy on Ord Mantell," he added with a scowl.

"Yeah, I heard about some of it when I was there," she replied, leaning back as well. "Did your new squad really defect?"

Expression dark, Boz waved his gloved hand as if to move the conversation along. "Something like that. So, you said that you two were going to head into Justicar territory, eh?"

"We've heard it's brutal," Tannith said, glancing at Corso, who nodded in agreement. "And like I said in my message, we've done pretty well for ourselves so far, but this time I'd rather not take any more chances than I have to this time."

"Smart thinking." The trooper lifted his gloved hand to his chin and glanced between them for a moment, nodding slowly. "Though, I have to say...I'm impressed the two of you were able to handle Black Sun on your own. Nasty karks."

"We managed just fine, thanks," Corso replied. He tried and failed to keep a sharp edge out of his voice.

The trooper shot him a wry look. "Seems that way. From what Tan said you held your own pretty well out there. Of course," he added with a knowing look at the red-haired woman. "Tan's a woman of many abilities-"

"Mostly getting _into_ trouble," she broke in with a light voice.

Boz crossed his arms and shrugged. "You're good at getting _out_, too. Of a lot of things."

The soldier's tone was teasing. Corso noted the slant of the captain's brows and the tension in her shoulders, and realized with a start that she was upset about something, of which he had no knowledge.

Corso studied the trooper as covertly as he could, but couldn't pin down what the soldier was to the captain. She'd been so vague about her connection with the trooper, so naturally his first assumption had been that Tannith and this fellow were – or had been – romantically involved.

But seeing them now made him think there was a kind of tension between them that didn't ring of something _romantic_. Corso was still learning his way around the crimson-haired woman, but he knew how a man looked at a lady he liked, and this Boz guy wasn't looking at her like _that_.

But still...what the kriff had Boz said that bothered her?

Just then, a service droid whirred up to the table, a tray of drinks balanced on its arms, and Corso accepted the glass that the captain handed him. The scent of ale drifted to his nose and he sipped; it was pretty good, smooth and dark. One good thing about this planet was that the drinks and food had been top-notch.

As he drank, he studied the lieutenant, trying to figure out what had set Tannith on edge, but the moment seemed to have passed. The captain sipped her ale as well, but he could see that her mind was already racing ahead to the task at hand. "Have you dealt with the Justicars before?"

"Nah, but I'm easy to work with," Boz replied with a shrug. "Tell me what and where to shoot, and I'll do it. I'd be glad to tag along and lend a helping hand. Besides," he added, leaning back in his chair. "I've got a little business with them, myself."

Tannith's brow creased at the words. "Won't you get in trouble with the brass for teaming up with a dirty smuggler?"

This last part was said with the addition of finger-quotes, which caused Boz to roll his eyes. "I guess that depends on what the smuggler's been up to."

At this, the captain gave what Corso was coming to think of as her _who, me? _grin_. "_I haven't been doing anything illegal." The smile brightened. "That you know of."

Corso couldn't hide his chuckle, nor did he try to; a glance showed him that the lieutenant was also amused, but trying to fight showing it, given the way his mouth was twitching into the beginnings of a smile.

"Let's try and keep it that way, shall we?" the trooper said at last. "I'd hate to have to arrest you."

A flare of alarm bloomed in Corso's gut from these words, but Tannith seemed unconcerned as she sipped her ale. "Glad to hear it. I just don't want the army coming after me and Corso if you get caught working with us."

_Us, _Corso thought with a grin, which he tried to conceal by lifting his glass to his lips. They way she said the word was casual, as if it their partnership was something she'd started to get used to, and the notion pleased him on several levels.

Boz gave a short bark of laughter. "Don't worry about me, Tan. I'm Special Forces. The best of the best."

"Really? I don't think you've mentioned it in the last three minutes," she replied in a dry voice, shooting Corso a smirk, which he returned.

But Boz straightened in his seat. All teasing mannerisms fell away and Corso got a look at the pure soldier that this man truly was. "Joke all you want, but _you_ came to _me_ for help," the lieutenant said in a quiet voice that held a trace of warning. "And here I am. No questions asked, as requested. Remember that."

Now Corso did _not _like this mudcrutch's tone, or the stern way he was regarding Tannith. He glanced at her, wondering how she'd react, and the pinched look of anger on her face only raised his own ire and made him want to do _something _to make the situation right.

"We don't need him, Captain," he murmured at last, leaning towards her and glaring at the soldier. "We can handle the Justicars on our own."

The trooper crossed his arms and leaned back again, his manner completely casual once more. "Maybe you can. Maybe not. It's your call, _Captain._"

There was an edge of mockery to the word that made Corso bristle; he couldn't help but wonder how quickly security would come if they started a brawl in here. _Haven't been arrested, yet,_ he thought as he glanced between the captain and Boz. _Reckon__ it'd be worth it if I got a few hits in._

The captain was silent for a beat before she glanced at him, digging in one of her belt pouches as she spoke. "We're going to need some more kolto patches before too long, and the vendor here has pretty good prices. Mind getting some?"

It was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one, and Corso tried not to scowl at the trooper as he took the credits she offered. _Who the hell is this guy? _"You're sure?" he asked as he stood. "Captain, we haven't met anyone yet we couldn't take on, just the two of us."

Her eyes flickered to his arm, where he'd gotten a particularly nasty scrape from the Black Sun gang about a week ago, and he recalled the look of worry on her face at the time. Kriff...was she worried about _him_? Was that why she wanted to team up with this buzz-cut? If that was the case, he had to put a stop to this, now. He could handle himself, and so could she. If this Boz guy was that much of a pain, it wasn't worth it to deal with him.

But before he could say anything she met his gaze again and spoke with deliberation. "Please give me a minute alone with my cousin, Corso."

_Cousin. Well, that clears _that _up. _Relief coursed through him, though he pushed it aside because he still didn't like the way Boz had spoken to her a minute ago; even a relative didn't have the right to almost-threaten her like that, and he knew a thing or two about troublesome cousins. Corso opened his mouth to tell her that didn't think he should leave her side.

But the second her blue eyes met his they sucked him right in, and he resigned himself to doing whatever she wanted. He was kind of hopeless that way.

As he turned to leave, Corso couldn't help but shoot Boz a glare, one that held all the warning he could muster without words or weapon. _Cousin or not, if you do anything to upset her, I'll make sure you regret it._

* * *

The moment Corso disappeared in the crowed, Tannith scowled at her cousin. "Back off, will you?"

"Why should I?" Boz replied with a shrug, sipping his ale. "I don't hear a peep from you for months when suddenly you call up, asking for _help _without telling me a kriffing thing."

Tannith thought her eyes were going to roll right out of her head. "Here we go again. Did you just show up to hard-time me?"

"Don't be that way," he shot back. "You know I'll help. But you can't just expect me to mindlessly follow your orders like a good little soldier." He snorted and set the glass down with a _thunk_. "I need more, this time."

She gritted her teeth. "What do you want, Boz?"

"Intel."

Some of her annoyance fled, replaced by curiosity. "On what? I'm not exactly a walking HoloNet."

His reply was quieter. "On you."

Tannith was silent.

After a moment he gave a heavy sigh; she watched his expression soften as his gaze fell on the scar on her cheek. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"I'm still standing," she replied as she toyed with the rim of her glass. "If I had my ship I'd be back to normal."

Boz's eyes widened and he leaned forward. The anger fell away from his face, replaced with concern. He knew, more than most, how much her ship meant to her. "What happened to the _Strike_?"

Tannith took a sip of her ale, noting the faint tremble in her hands and thinking she needed a cigarra. "Stolen."

"Damn." His head shook and he made a clucking noise of sympathy. "That's karked up. Do you know who did it?"

"Oh, yes," she replied in a light voice. "Corso and I are on his trail, though of course it's turning into a huge frakking ordeal."

"Ain't it always that way?" Boz sighed and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow.

She'd always envied his seemingly iron stomach; the man could drink like a Zeltron and still be able to shoot straight. By contrast, she was something of a lightweight, and had to be careful to moderate her alcohol intake, especially when she was working. It was why cigarras were so handy; they relaxed her enough to take the edge off of her nerves without disabling her common sense.

Sweet Force, she could have used one now, but unfortunately, there was a permanent smoking ban on the entire kriffing Senate District, so she figured she'd have to go without for the time being, despite the urge.

They sat quietly for a moment before she cleared her throat. "How is...everyone back home?"

"The same." He eyed her carefully as he gestured at the space between them. "Can I say anything about seeing you, or am I sworn to secrecy again?"

There was a trace of mockery in his voice, but she could hear the underlying notes of concern. Boz was one of the few connections to her past that she'd been unable to abandon. She was sure he'd only joined the Republic military to be in a better position to keep tabs on her once she'd left Corellia.

_But that was his decision_, she reminded herself. _Not mine._ He'd chosen his path, just like she had, though there had always been many more options open to him than had ever been for her. "You can tell them I'm alive and okay, but I'd rather you didn't say more."

"Whatever you want." His armored shoulders lifted and fell as he sighed, and for one moment she was reminded of the boy he'd been when his parents had died and hers had taken him in...stars, it must be nearly fifteen years ago, now. Time had a funny way of speeding by.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, letting the sounds of the cantina wash over them, until he drummed his fingertips on the table's surface. "So...Justicars. You don't think you and your boyfriend can handle them?"

"Corso's not my boyfriend," she said, though she couldn't stop her eyes from flickering through the crowd, searching for his distinctive form. It wouldn't have taken a full-fledged Jedi to sense how much Corso disliked the way Boz has spoken to her, and she didn't care for the idea of sending him away, but it'd been necessary to talk in private for a few moments.

"Could have fooled me," Boz replied with a smirk. "Seemed like he was ready to spring to your defense when I started hard-timing you."

Tannith ignored the part of her that actually _liked_ that thought, and sipped her ale again. "He's got an interest in catching the scum who stole my ship, too, so we've been working together for a little over a month, now."

Boz nodded and his scarred face smoothed into a thoughtful expression. "From what I can tell, I think you're interested in him, but you're so hard to read sometimes. Are you?"

This made her pause. It wasn't that she didn't know the answer, but rather because she wasn't quite ready to admit it aloud. Finally she settled on: "He's a good man to have at my back."

There was no way that Boz was fooled by her evasiveness, but he seemed to let it go for now, and instead chose to tease her some more. "I think he wants to have more than that."

She gave a warning look, but it was a half-hearted one at best. Memories of Corso being shot at by Black Sun gangsters and nearly meeting his death filled her mind, and she exhaled deeply. "The truth is, he's a great fighter, but this whole situation with my ship is getting stickier by the minute. I'm not really _okay _with the idea of throwing him in harm's way when there's just not a lot in it for him, you know?"

Boz folded his arms over his chest, an amused expression tugging at his mouth. "Whatever you say. But from where I'm sitting, your boyfriend-"

"He's not-"

"-isn't sticking around because he doesn't have any better ways to spend his time," her cousin continued as if she'd not spoken. "He talks like a hick but I know you wouldn't waste your time with an idiot, so he's probably smarter than he seems. And if that's the case, then I'm sure he's found something worth fighting for in this little partnership the two of you have concocted."

Her reply was immediate and sharp. "Corso's not with me because he thinks he's going to get lucky. He has his own reasons for sticking around that have nothing to do with sex."

Even as she said the words, though, she wondered at their truth. She knew Corso was attracted to her, and she wondered just how big of a role his attraction was playing in his insistence on remaining with her. If she were honest, she was attracted to him as well, and she had quickly – too quickly? – grown used to having him at her side, but the idea of opening herself up to another lover, even a potential one, was...well, it was terrifying, and she wasn't sure if she was ready.

Sharing little bits and pieces of her past was one thing; letting someone into her heart was quite another.

Would she ever be able to let him in? Did she even want to? And if the answer to both, or either, of those questions was "no," how much would he be hurt?

She sighed and shifted in her chair, feeling the reassuring weight of Flashy at her side with the small movement. She'd never been the kind of person who loved to analyze emotions and feelings, preferring action instead of words. Everything was so much simpler in a fight: point at the bad guy and shoot. Repeat as needed.

Seeing her pensive expression, her cousin lifted his hands in a gesture of pacification. "I wasn't implying anything like _that._" He sighed again and glanced over his shoulder, possibly looking for Corso. "If what you say is true, he's a good guy to keep around."

"_So_ glad I have your stamp of approval."

Ignoring her sarcasm, Boz gave her one of his long, speculative looks, the kind that always made her feel like he was looking straight through her skull. "How much have you told him about your...past education?"

Tannith pretended to find the contents of her glass exceptionally interesting. "He knows enough."

"Tan-"

She huffed, but made herself meet his eyes, the same pale blue as hers. "_Enough_."

For a moment he only continued to regard her, probably weighing his desire to lecture her about keeping secrets versus the inevitable argument that such a lecture would cause.

But she did not drop her gaze because she refused to acquiesce on this particular point. Her life was her own and she'd fought too hard for her independence to let anyone else dictate what she should or shouldn't do. Corso knew enough about her, right now. There was nothing so critical that it couldn't wait until a later time, and besides, her past was – to be delicate – complicated.

Besides, they'd only just recently started getting comfortable around one another and she didn't want to risk jeopardizing that with the muddled mess that was her former life.

Thank the Force, Boz seemed to decide to let the matter go for now, though she regretted her feeling of relief when he smirked at her again. "You two make a cute couple."

This was said with a pointedly lifted brow and Tannith couldn't help casting her eyes to the ceiling. "You're a jerk."

"A jerk who wants you to be happy...and to check in a little more often, let me know how you're doing."

His tone had softened again and she felt her annoyance slide away at the affection in his eyes. She'd resolutely turned her back on her old life when she'd jumped off the path that had been laid out for her, and even though she knew he didn't approve of many of her choices, Boz was the one person from that life who had never condemned her for making them. He'd groused, he'd argued, but he'd never outright said _you're wrong, _like so many others had.

Instead, he'd stuck by her as much as she would allow, even going so far as to upturn all his own plans just to be freer to be where she was, if she needed him.

Yes, he was a jerk sometimes, but he was a jerk who loved her.

Clearing his throat, Boz thumbed over his shoulder, where Tannith could see Corso weaving back through the crowd, eyes darting between her and Boz and a non-too-pleased expression on his face. She didn't blame him one bit, and promised herself that she'd try and talk to him about it all, later.

If there was time.

Her cousin waggled his brows at her, looking more boyish than a scarred soldier in full body armor had any right to. "Your boyfriend hates me already."

It was useless to keep correcting him when he was just trying to tease, so she only sighed. "I can't imagine why, when you've been _so_ charming."

"Blame the Republic," Boz said as Corso approached the table again, a small bundle tucked under his arm. "The army turns even the nicest guys into complete karks. I should've stuck with CorSec."

Corso slid into his seat and cast a glance her way as he set the kolto package on the table. "Corellian Security Force?"

"Boz was supposed to sign up when he was younger," Tannith supplied before Boz could interject. "But he...chose another path."

"That kind of thing runs in our family," her cousin added with a knowing look at Tannith.

"Stuff like that tends to," Corso agreed after a beat as he reached for his glass of ale.

"Oh, I could tell you some stories," Boz added with a wry grin. "If she'd ever let me get the words out."

At that, Tannith sat up and folded her hands on the table before her. "Okay," she said firmly, causing both men to sit a little straighter, as if coming to attention. "Back to the task at hand: Justicars. Infiltrating them. We'll be needing to, in order to reach our contact, but I doubt it'll be easy."

"Nothing ever is with you, is it?" Boz said, sighing dramatically.

Even as she wrinkled her nose at her cousin, she caught Corso's next words. "No, it's not," he said quietly, so that only she could hear. "But I don't mind."

"You might one day," she heard herself say, not quite able to look into his eyes.

But he only shook his head and sipped his ale again, offering her that soft, warm smile that made her stomach flutter. He said nothing else on the matter, but he remained firmly at her side as they began planning in earnest.

* * *

_A/N: A little more of Tannith's backstory. She's got a lot of secrets, and we've only begun to brush the surface. Bozen, or "Boz" (rhymes with "goes") is based on the trooper character that my husband plays, though I created his backstory for this narrative._

_Yes, Boz's "that bad?" comment is a nod to the OT, as is his last name. ;)_

_One of the things I love about RPGs is the freedom you have to imagine what kind of character you're playing, to think about what kind of a past he or she has had and work that into their current story._

_FYI, for my non-gamer readers, Justicars are soldiers who've become extreme vigilantes and formed their own violent militia to "restore peace" in Coruscant's Underworld._

_Next time: in the Justicar's turf. (We're nearly off Corrie, I promise!)_

_Thank you for reading! _


	7. Coruscant VI: Gift

**Coruscant VI: Gift**

_Justicar Territory_

Tannith watched in appreciation as Corso took out the rest of the Justicars that had surrounded them. As always, his fighting was brutally efficient, so much so that she often had difficulty correlating the grinning young man she'd come to know with the furious killing machine he was when faced with an enemy.

Those Justicars didn't have a snowball's chance on Tatooine.

Boz was right beside her in the middle of the open street, firing his blaster-cannon with a savage delight at any Justicars who slipped away from Corso, so she knew she'd have a moment to change out the power-pack in Flashy, which had drained a little too quickly during the last fracas.

Once she knelt behind her portable energy-shield it was only a few moments before she got Flashy equipped with a fresh pack. She took a second to glance around, then raised the pistol and lobbed off a round at one of the men who'd broken free of his fellows. He fell to the pavement with a thud and did not move again.

Several minutes later, the fighting was over. As Tannith rose from her crouch, blood needled its way through her legs, rushing back after she'd been kneeling for so long. She shook out her legs and glanced beside her, where Boz was stowing his own weapon and watching Corso trot back up.

"Nice work," her cousin said as Corso approached. "You have military training?"

Corso nodded but looked at Tannith, his eyes immediately falling on Flashy. "Charge didn't hold as long as it should have, did it?" At her nod he slung his rifle over his back and reached for the pistol. "I can take a look at her, Captain. Sometimes the firing settings need to be adjusted."

"Let's find cover first," Boz replied, his helmet swiveling as he scanned the area. "We're sitting nunas out here."

They'd been fighting their way through the bowels of Coruscant for hours now, and Tannith thought that everyone could use a breather anyway, so she indicated a nearby alley that looked relatively safe. Once they were sheltered, she watched Corso's face draw with concentration as he began to examine Flashy. He was intent on his work so she took a moment to rummage through her supply-pouches and take a quick inventory of her charges and flash-grenades. After removing his helmet, Boz checked over his own weapons as well, and sent a quick comm to one of his squad-mates, whom he'd declined to bring along on this mission.

"There," Corso said at last, holding out Flashy to Tannith, hilt-first. His warm brown eyes met hers and crinkled pleasantly when he smiled. "I had to tweak a few things, but she should be good to go."

Thanking him, Tannith made to sheathe the weapon at her hip, but Boz cleared his throat. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Sure." Tannith handed her cousin the blaster, and watched as he ran his eyes across the weapon. She glanced back at Corso, who was watching Boz carefully. "She's done beautifully so far. Thanks again for lending her to me."

Corso blinked once, then shook his head. "She was a gift, Captain. If you like her, you should keep her around."

"Kind of an antique, isn't it?" Boz asked, glancing up at Corso. "I mean, the mods are nice, but Tan could use something a little newer and get better, more powerful results, without the faulty power-pack."

Corso took a breath, and Tannith could see that he was about to launch into a dissection of the merits of Flashy as compared to most other blasters. She was going to let him, then – surprisingly – she heard herself speak. "The power-pack isn't _faulty_, it just needs adjusting every now and then. Every weapon has its own quirks."

Boz shrugged and handed back the pistol. "Yeah, but at what point do those 'quirks' become too much hassle? Just get a new one."

"Not everyone has the resources of the military," Tannith replied as she gripped Flashy's reassuring weight. "I can't requisition a new weapon if I'm tired of mine. Besides," she added, running her hand down the barrel. "I don't want to use a new one."

At her words, Corso shot her a look that she wasn't quite sure how to read, which was something of a first. Once he'd learned that Boz was her cousin, he'd seemed to relax around the other man a bit more, though she could tell that the trooper got on his nerves every so often. However, a few hours into this mission he'd admitted that Boz was good to have in a tight spot, and Corso was the kind of guy who was agreeable enough to be able work with pretty much anyone – even if he didn't really like them.

Her cousin rolled his eyes. "I always forget how attached you get to your toys."

"Weapons ain't 'toys,'" Corso replied in a quiet voice that drew both Tannith and Boz's attention. "They're tools. If you have one you trust, it's smart to hang on to it. Unless you find one you like better," he added with a look back her way.

Tannith studied the blaster in her grip. The handle was curved just enough to fit her palm. The weapon didn't weigh very much, but still had enough heft to feel solid, almost comforting. In the aftermath of a battle it didn't gleam because it was coated with dust and grime and traces of her own sweat. There were a multitude of scratches and nicks that no amount of solvent would polish away, but they were evidence of Flashy's history, in the same way that the modifications Corso had made were proof of the care he'd taken in maintaining the weapon throughout the years.

_A gift._

He'd given it freely, with no expectation of anything in return other than her own safekeeping. Even now, when she didn't think either of them was _really_ talking about Flashy, he didn't seek to bind her with any spoken hopes or promises.

She knew Corso cared for her as more than an ally and more than a friend. He'd never said as much but he didn't have to; his actions spoke volumes. It was written in his eyes and laced into the very pattern of his speech. It was evident in the things he said to her, rarely asking for more than she felt comfortable to give, and in the constant, steady warmth of his presence by her side.

Corso was not a man to push his point of view on anyone; instead, he sat back and gave her time to come to the realization that yes, she cared for him, too.

Because she did. _I do care about him. As more than an ally and a friend. _How had it happened? She honestly wasn't sure. _Slowly_, she thought as her hand closed around Flashy's reassuring weight. _Naturally_. Like the pistol in her palm, the realization felt like it belonged.

They were surrounded by darkness, by shadows and grime and the stink of death, but somehow her heart was light, like it'd been cut loose to drift freely into the air.

"I think I'll be hanging on to Flashy for a while," she replied at last, glancing back up at Corso. "Nothing else has ever felt quite as right."

Even through the darkness she could still make out the flush in his neck as he grinned at her. "Glad to hear it."

Tannith couldn't help herself. His happiness was infectious and she grinned back.

Beside her, she heard Boz reload the plasma pack on his blaster-cannon, the resounding clicking sound effectively ending the moment. "That's all wonderful, really," he said as he hefted the weapon. "But can we please get back to killing Justicars?"

* * *

_A/N: Whoa...just realized I have over twenty of these little vignettes done so far! o.O As of now I've written into Tatooine, and have notes/ideas for the rest of the game. If you have any ideas, suggestions, requests, or anything else you would like to see, please let me know! I'm always open to new ideas. :)_

_Okay, we've got one more vignette on Corrie, then we'll be heading off-world! Woot!_

_As always, thanks for reading! You guys have all been awesome and supportive, and I'm lucky to have readers like you. :)_

_Next time...home sweet starship. _


	8. Coruscant VII: Homecoming

**Coruscant VII: Homecoming**

_Coruscant Spaceport_

Corso didn't consider himself a poet, but there was something special about standing with the captain as she saw her ship, the _Lucky Strike_, for the first time in weeks. After all, he'd been there when it'd been stolen, so in a way this moment was like coming full circle.

A glance in her direction showed him that she was trembling with excitement for all that she tried to keep her expression calm, and he couldn't help but recollect the stricken look on her face when Skavak had stolen her ship back on Ord Mantell.

At last she cast her eyes his way and he saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. "I want to check the exterior before we head inside," she said.

He nodded. "I'll hang out here and keep an eye out, just in case."

There was no telling if Skavak had left any more surprises for them and he was unwilling to let anything jeopardize this moment for his captain. She nodded, took a breath, and stepped towards her ship.

While Corso kept his place near the hangar's entrance, Captain Tannith said nothing for a long, long stretch of minutes as she paced around the exterior, examining the craft from every possible angle. Her hands lifted to skim along the hull's underside; her gaze swept over seemingly every nook and cranny with a fondness that made him smile. She paused by each landing strut to examine its integrity and he even noticed her eying the domed turret at the top of the vessel, putting in his mind the crazy notion that she was about to clamber up there just to make sure everything was alright.

But she kept her boots on the ground, for now. After some time she made her way back to him and he felt his heart lift at the joy that had taken hold of her body. Tannith wasn't smiling, but happiness was plain to see in the lightness of her steps and the relaxed carriage of her shoulders; even her eyes seemed to sparkle. She looked happier than he'd ever seen her, and he realized again the strength of the blow Skavak had dealt when he'd stolen the _Lucky Strike_.

There'd been a little talk of her missing belongings, though she hadn't complained a whole lot about any of it. Mostly, she'd just focused on getting her ship back. However, he'd noticed a heaviness to her in the moments she thought he wasn't looking, and in those moments he'd seen just how deep the _Strike's_ loss ran. The woman he watched now was a far cry from the one he'd traveled with to Coruscant almost two months ago.

This in mind, Corso smiled at her. Nothing was ever as good as when she smiled back. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"Perfect," she said, still beaming. "That Fabizan guy was telling the truth when he said the ship was fine. Though," she added, wrinkling her nose. "There's no telling what that son of a kath-hound Skavak did in my cabin. I'll probably have to burn all the sheets. Maybe the whole bed."

"Can't be too careful," Corso agreed with a chuckle as they headed towards the boarding ramp.

Within moments they were walking though the round little freighter, and as she gave him a tour he glanced around with appreciation. The vessel was roomier than he'd imagined it'd be, but not so big that the upkeep would be a pain. It was clearly designed to be able to be piloted by one person, but he noticed the crew quarters were spacious and there was even a dejarik board in the main common area.

Among the "upgrades" that Skavak had gotten, there was a maintenance droid that seemed like it'd be a help in taking care of the more mundane needs of the ship and crew. There was also the matter of a strange woman onboard named "Risha" who'd apparently worked with Skavak before, but seemed inclined to work for – or with – Tannith now. Corso wasn't sure he trusted Risha, but the captain didn't kick up any real fuss about her, so he let the matter go for now.

The tour continued. He was pleased to see that the medbay was well-stocked, as he'd half-expected Skavak to had used up all of the captain's kolto out of sheer spite. In the lounge, Tannith took a few minutes to rummage around the galley, until she withdrew a canister of Kor Vella caf from one of the cabinets.

"I've missed that smell," she sighed as she popped the lid open and took a long inhale, her eyes closing in bliss. "It's good to be home."

Leaning forward, Corso caught the rich scent. It was a sharper blend than he usually drank, but he'd noticed her preference for strong caf, and was glad that she'd gotten back this favored kind. Within moments she'd set the percolator to brew a few cups, and they continued their tour.

She didn't spend much time in her cabin other than to sweep her eyes across the wide bed, storage unit and 'fresher door before she looked back his way. Corso had not entered the room with her, choosing instead to remain across the threshold. At her look, he lifted a brow. "What's the verdict, Captain? Do we need to sterilize the whole place?"

A chuckle escaped her as she made her way back to his side. "It looks okay, for now. I'll make a closer inspection, later."

Nodding, he stepped aside so she could slip out, and followed her through the long corridor to the bridge. He did not miss the way her steps quickened, though the moment she reached the doorway she froze.

Corso studied the small room, trying to see it through her eyes. He was only a little familiar with starships; he could fly in a pinch if he had to but didn't fancy himself an ace. There was a control station on either side of the door-frame, which he figured were for the ship's cannons, and at the center of the room was an astronavigation station. Farthest from the door were two careworn seats, pilot and co-pilot, that were divided by a row of faintly blinking controls, like the ship was anticipating the next flight. Although the transparisteel viewport before them opened out onto the hangar, he could imagine looking out at a sky full of stars or the ribboning light of hyperspace.

"It looks the same," Tannith murmured as she stared at the pilot's console. "Why does it feel different?"

The way the words were spoken made him think she wasn't really talking to him, but he had an urge to answer anyway. "You call this ship your home," he heard himself say. "And you've been away for a spell – maybe thought you'd never be here again."

She glanced at him as if startled to see another person beside her and he felt his neck get warm, though for some reason he kept yammering away. "Felt the same way when I came back to Ord after I left the Peace Brigade. It was good to be home, but kind of strange, too." He sighed and offered her a shrug, hoping the gesture would convey what his words couldn't. "I reckon it's a normal feeling, Captain."

"Tannith."

It was his turn to be startled. She'd not pushed the subject before, letting him refer to her however he wanted – well, short of "ma'am" – and he'd fallen into the habit of calling her "Captain" because it was respectful, though that wasn't the entire reason.

Part of it was selfish, because when he called her "Captain," he could still pretend that he didn't think of her any other way. It was easier, especially during those times when he knew there was a lot she wasn't saying. Sometimes Corso felt like he was discovering this woman in pieces and parts, and sometimes he wondered if he'd ever really _know_ her at all.

Since arriving on Corrie their lives had become more and more intertwined, but there was still a distance between them. Though he'd seen her relax around him a little more each day, he was unwilling to push anything for fear of damaging what connections they had forged.

But now her eyes on his were such that he couldn't look away and he couldn't object. She could have asked him to scrub the entire ship with his toothbrush and he'd have done so without hesitation. _Yeah, I'm hopeless._

Corso took a deep breath, idly noting he could smell the caf she'd set to brew, though most of his attention was on the way his heart had suddenly gotten lodged in his throat. Luck was with him, though, because his voice didn't give him away. "Tannith."

The smile she gave him was worth every ounce of discomfiture. "I'll answer to 'Tan,' too, or should I not push my luck?"

He did his best to look nonchalant, though he was inwardly whooping at that smile. "Either way, I know how to get your attention. But I reckon I'll stick with 'Captain' when we're on a job."

She laughed outright at this. "Whatever you want, Corso."

With that, she strode the few paces to the helm and planted herself in the pilot's chair, indicating that he should follow, before she began tweaking dials and flipping switches in preparation for take-off. At her touch, the little freighter shuddered to life as the engines came online, and he could hear the distinct hum of the thrusters as they fired up. All readouts indicated the ship was functioning perfectly; and once they'd gotten their clearance to leave, he watched in appreciation as she slid her hands along the controls**, **gently coaxing the _Lucky Strike _into the air.

It was only a few moments before they were skimming over the Coruscanti skyline. As he watched the planet recede below, Corso marveled at how tiny it all seemed now when upon first arriving it'd felt so huge.

Neither one of them spoke much as she ran the coordinates of their next destination, the planet Taris, into the navicomputer. Once a safe route was calculated and the hyperdrive was prepped she flipped a single, unremarkable switch before her. The stars outside the viewport began to stretch before they shredded completely, filling his vision with swirls of white-blue light.

They were off.

Corso stared at hyperspace, ignoring the faint feeling of dizziness from the sight because it was something he didn't think he'd ever get tired of looking at. However, even as entranced as he was, the captain's voice instantly pulled him out of his head. "Have you flown a ship like this before?"

"A little," he replied, blinking as he looked back at her. "I've got the basics, but I wouldn't want to navigate through an asteroid field any time soon. I could manage if..."

He trailed off, unwilling to say "if you couldn't," not after she'd just gotten her ship back. But she only nodded once as she rose from her chair, stretching her arms above her head. This naturally caused her back to arch and her chest to be thrust forward in a way that was incredibly distracting, enough so that he forced himself to look elsewhere so she wouldn't think he was ogling her.

"I want to poke around a little more," she said. "Think you can keep an eye on things in the meantime?"

"Sure thing," he said, adding: "Tannith," a beat later and noting with pleasure that she beamed at him again.

She thanked him and slipped out of her seat, so he moved to the co-pilot's chair, dividing his attention between the swirl of hyperspace and the console before him. Corso wondered if this was her way of letting him closer; the _Lucky Strike _was her home, after all, and she'd trusted him with its care, even if only for a little bit. Lately it felt like he had control over very little around him, but right now he resolved to make sure her trust was not misplaced.

It was a little good he could do, at least. Maybe, just maybe, it was a little good that would lead to something great.

* * *

_A/N: Technology is _so_ not my forte. :P __I did the best I could with the mechanics of flying the ship, (and the description of the layout), but if you see anything that could be improved, please let me know. :)_

_Thank you so much for reading and commenting, if you do. Feedback of all kinds helps me grow as a writer, which means I can tell better stories for you! It's a two-way street. :)_

_Next up: Traveling to Taris, and more of Tan's back-story. _


	9. Interlude in the Black I: Future Perfect

_For the purpose of these vignettes, most of the scenes that take place on the ship will be titled "Interlude in the Black," as below. __This is kind of __a nod to _Firefly___, where they refer to space as "the black," and I think that's the coolest sci-fi term ever. :P_

___Song lyrics reprinted without permission. I don't own/make money off of this, though, so no lawsuits please, mmkay? :D_

* * *

**Interlude in the Black I: Future Perfect**

_So who's the fool that would think the ties_

_would be better off undone?_

_Did your heard heed the warning when you veered from the path_

_that was narrower and straight?_

~ "Borderline," by Alison Krauss and Union Station, from the album_, Lonely Runs Both Ways_

_Aboard the _Lucky Strike, _en route to Taris_

Tannith was home, but she was not home _free. _Not yet.

There were a thousand things she needed to do, but one that took precedence above all the rest, so she hurried to her cabin, silently praying that Skavak hadn't uncovered her secret.

Upon entering her ship, she'd seen at once that the slimeball had managed to pry into most of the hidden compartments that the XS was equipped with; the joke was on him, though, as she'd been at the tail end of a long stretch of deliveries when she'd come to Ord Mantell, so the only thing of value – at first glance – had been the now-infamous shipment of blasters.

Now, apparently, she had quite a few more deliveries to make, and her teeth gritted at the way that this "Risha" woman had practically ordered her to do so. _My ship, my rules. _She'd have to sort Risha out before too long, at least to try and figure out if the other woman presented a threat, though her instincts told her Risha didn't mean her any harm as long as their interests coincided.

In any case, Risha was a problem she'd deal with later.

Once Tannith reached her cabin, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her, making a mental note to change the code when she had the time. For now, she figured no one would bother her, so she knelt beside her bed and ran her hands along the sides before she slipped her fingertips beneath the lip of the edge, right where she knew the hidden compartment was located.

At her touch it opened with a faint _click. _She slid the panel to the side and reached within. For a few, frantic moments her fingers groped at nothing until – _thank the Force _– they brushed against something hard and cool.

Tense muscles became languid as sweet relief flooded her entire body. She closed her hand around the lightsaber crystal and pulled it free so she could see for certain that it was intact. It was tiny, barely the width of her pinky-nail, and only a few centimeters in length. Blue, of course. She remembered hoping that her lightsaber blade would match her eyes, though she knew now that was a silly thing to wish for.

_But everyone wants silly things as a kid_, she thought as she turned the Adegan crystal over in her palm, watching how the overhead lights of her cabin were caught within. As always, it seemed to glow under her touch, practically alive in its own right.

Even now, years after the fact, Tannith remembered the moment when she'd first spotted the crystal, resting in the vault with countless others in the enclave in Coronet City. It had called to her and she'd been unable to do anything but answer.

In the years since, she'd cut all ties with the Jedi, Corellian and otherwise; she'd given up her lightsaber when she'd turned her back on the Order and she never accessed the Force if she could help it, even though it'd never been particularly strong with her to begin with. Hell, she'd never undergone any Trials, let alone found a Master. When she left that life she'd only been an Initiate, nothing more. Despite her family's protests, Tannith's leaving the Order had been no great loss to anyone else, but the freedom she'd gained meant everything to her.

Besides, deep down, Tannith knew she'd have made a terrible Jedi.

But for all of this – running away from what had been called _destiny_ – her lightsaber crystal was something she could never quite relinquish. It was a part of her, indelible.

A glance up showed that her door was still closed and locked, so she took a seat on her bed and continued her scrutiny of the crystal. There was no way Skavak would have left a valuable prize like this if he'd come across it, so she knew her secret was safe, at least a while longer. Forever, if she had a choice.

She inhaled deeply and caught the rich aroma of the caf that had surely finished brewing by now. The scent pulled her back to the moment and reminded her that she had more important matters to focus on besides the past she'd tried to discard. The whole galaxy was waiting. Her life, the path she'd actually _chosen,_ was waiting.

Corso was waiting.

Tiny as it was, the crystal suddenly felt heavy in her palm. What would Corso think about this facet of her life? What would he think about the fact that she'd run away from the preordained path that she'd been set upon?

The questions pooled in her gut, hard and cold. He'd told her how he'd left home to join the Peace Brigade at the tender age of fourteen, but this was hardly the same thing; he'd left home for a selfless, noble reason, while she'd merely she'd turned her back on her family and the hopes they'd had for her. Most Jedi didn't have any contact with their families, but things were different on Corellia. Her mom and dad had been so proud when she'd been accepted into the Order...

_And I threw it all away for my own selfishness_.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the dark thoughts that she'd worked hard to get over. It wasn't selfish to want to do things her own way, not when she was willing to take responsibility for her choices. It was _her_ life. If Tannith karked up, then it was Tannith who would pay the price.

Above all else, she had too much ahead of her to keep one foot in the past, because it had such little bearing on her present.

With that thought, she stowed the crystal in its hiding place, where she resolved it would stay.

She slipped out of her cabin, locked the door behind her and made her way through the corridor that circumnavigated the entire ship, heading towards the galley. In her excitement to taste her beloved Kor Vella caf again, she'd set the percolator to produce enough for several cups, so she figured she'd take Corso a mug.

As she went, Tannith told herself if Corso didn't like the choices she'd made in the past...well, it wasn't her problem. He could leave if he wanted; they weren't bound to each other, not really, and she could survive on her own. She told herself that it didn't matter what he thought about her.

The thing was, she liked him – a lot – and he liked her, too. It'd been a long time since she'd liked anyone as much and it seemed silly to waste such an attraction. She wondered if they could figure something out, romance-wise, and she wouldn't have to bring up her past at all. Maybe they could mix a little pleasure with their business, and end it somewhere down the hyperlane with no casualties.

Each step, each thought, made her heart a little lighter, so that by the time she was pulling out two mugs from the cupboard she was rather pleased. Their lives were hectic right now and probably only going to get more so. It wouldn't be prudent to start a real relationship right now; it would be smarter to stick with something light and fun. Surely Corso would agree.

The caf was perfect: dark, rich, sharp. Its scent hit her nostrils and she couldn't help but give a deep inhale as she poured a measure into each mug. _Home_. She was home. She was at peace, or as much as a person could reasonably be, given the bizarre objects that Risha had loaded into the _Strike's _cargo hold, including a man frozen in carbonite, a severed head-in-a-jar, and a monstrous, caged shanjaru.

_Deal with that mess later, _she told herself as she stepped out of the lounge and headed to the bridge. There was quite a bit in the present that she should be happy with, which she tried to focus on: she had her beloved _Strike_ back, after she'd feared she'd never see the ship again; she had deliveries to make, which meant she'd be getting paid for the first time in far too long.

She had a sky full of stars ahead.

Save for the hum of the hyperdrive the bridge was quiet, and she paused at the threshold to savor the sight of hyperspace stretching out before her eyes. The blue wash of light cast everything in a soothing glow and she felt more at ease than before.

At her approach, Corso, seated in the co-pilot's chair, glanced her way and when his gaze fell on the mugs in her hand he rose and moved to her side to take one. "Thanks, Capt...Tannith."

She watched him take a sip, grimace, and immediately try to conceal the expression. Genuine Kor Vella caf was an acquired taste. "Too strong?" she asked.

"A little," he replied, regarding the mug like it'd just slapped him. "Kinda bitter, too."

Tannith gave him a grin as she slid into the pilot's chair. "There's some sugar in the galley."

"No, it's alright," he said with another, tentative sip. "It'll put a spring in your step, that's for sure."

"Good Corellian caf will do a lot more than that," she chuckled as she leaned into her seat. The padded contours of the chair molded perfectly to her back and she sighed with unconcealed pleasure. Corso took his seat again and for a few minutes they sat in comfortable silence.

The cup was warm in her hand, she could feel the thrum of the _Lucky Strike's _engines through her entire body, and the stars streaked before her, beckoning. There was no going back, she knew. Her past was indelibly written, and even if she could change the more unpleasant parts, she wouldn't have bothered. The future was what mattered.

_Of course_, she thought with a subtle glance at her traveling companion, blowing over the rim of his mug. _The present is kind of nice, too_.

"Corso." At the sound of her voice he glanced up, his features illuminated blue by hyperspace. She lifted her mug in a salute. "Thank you for helping me get the_ Strike _back. It wouldn't have happened without you."

His answering smile was broad and sent a thrill of pleasant agitation right to her belly. "Glad I could do you a good turn, Tannith."

His mug lifted as well, and they clinked them together – carefully – over the center console. As the cups made contact, she met his eyes. "To the future."

"To the future," he echoed.

As they each took a drink he pulled a face and she couldn't help but laugh. No matter what else happened, it was good to be home.

* * *

_So now we know more about Tannith's history, and her near-Jedi-ness is obviously a big divergence from game-canon. I love Jedi; they're pretty much the entire reason I fell in love with Star Wars, but the Jedi characters in-game are so...stuffy. :P I thought it'd be fun to combine (sort of) a Jedi and a smuggler, though Tan's Force-abilities are meager. More on that, later._

_I will say that from what I could tell in my research, it would not be out of the question for a Corellian Jedi to retain close ties with her family, so I believe that Tan's history with Boz and the mention of her mom & dad are plausible, but I'm eager to hear your thoughts. :)_

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: on Taris. :)_


	10. Taris I: Complications

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Taris portion of the smuggler storyline. _

* * *

**Taris I: Complications**

_And I know this is just a customary fever;_

_The moon is a deceiver that will leave you running blind._

~ "If I Didn't Know Any Better," by Alison Krauss and Union Station, from _Lonely Runs Both Ways_

_Sinking City ruins_

Tannith's right hand still burned from rakghoul scratch, but she tried to ignore the pain for now. Instead, she watched as Corso dug through their supplies, searching for the ration-packs that had served as breakfast, lunch and dinner out here in the Taris wilderness these last few weeks. She kind of hoped he didn't find any, as she was getting a little tired of them and longed for a proper meal. And a shower.

_I'd give just about anything to be clean again, _she thought with a sigh as she leaned forward to adjust the setting on the portable lamp that served as a campfire tonight. Evenings on Taris were too cool for her liking, while the days were generally muggy and humid.

All around, remnants of buildings and roads loomed, though they were crumbling under the assault of time, overgrown with vines and wildlife. There had once been a bustling city here but only the bones remained, serving as a reminder of the world's tragic and violent history. Not that she needed a reminder, given the determined presence of the locals who refused to leave this place, no matter how difficult it was to stay.

Quite honestly, as far as Tannith was concerned, Taris could go straight to the fiery depths of all nine Corellian hells.

What had started off as a simple delivery had – _of-kriffing-course_ – snowballed into a three-week long pain-in-the-_shebs_ endeavor that involved pirates, vicious scavengers and heaps of killer monsters that seemed to grow more prevalent the longer she and Corso were dirtside. Not to mention the fact that Beryl Thorne – their contact on this world – had lied about the goods they'd been transporting, which had spurned _another _round of complications.

Add to that the fact that she and Corso couldn't turn around without a settler or scientist needing their assistance...well, it made for a long and frustrating visit to this world, and it didn't help that she was apparently unable to _not_ help those in need. She blamed her Jedi training, what little of it had stuck, anyway. Overall, Tannith felt for the folks here; they were trying to make the best of a bad situation, which was admirable, but she had been more than ready to leave them to their business and continue her own.

At least, she _had been. _But the only constant, it seemed, was change.

"Dinner's ready." Corso's quiet voice broke her out of her reverie. He handed her one of the self-heating foil packets, offering a faint smile as well. "These things almost make me miss Corrie. The food was great."

"I would settle for a hot shower and a cigarra," she replied as she tore open the pack and tried not to wince at the faint, fishy smell that emanated from it. _Fish? Really? Gross. _

Corso peeled his own packet open and tipped about half of it in his mouth without blinking, seeming to choose to get it over with rather than linger over the taste. "You know that'll attract the rakghouls again, Captain," he said after he swallowed.

Force above and beyond, did she ever. She'd discovered _that _little tidbit of information the second night on-planet, when they'd been in the Republic Resettlement Zone. Tannith had stepped outside to enjoy her usual evening smoke and had nearly brought a legion of the monsters swarming over the area. It'd been one hell of a fight, and later one of the Republic scientists, Doctor Ianna Cel, had helpfully observed that the creatures seemed to be inexorably drawn to the scent of cigarra smoke.

Another reason Tannith was ready to leave. The nicotine patches that Doctor Cel had been able to drum up were just not cutting it; she was feeling a little shaky and her stomach was rolling. The heat-lamp was doing nothing to combat the chill of the night air, either, and she edged a little closer to the glowing device.

She wrinkled her nose at her "dinner" again. "Stupid rakghouls. This had better work."

"I hope so, too." Corso chugged the rest of his meal and regarded her. "Can't say I'm thrilled with Doctor Cel injecting us with the rakghoul serum and sendin' us off to get attacked, but I reckon it's for a good cause." He toyed with the pack a moment, then glanced her way again. "What changed your mind about helping her?"

They'd been ready to leave. Beryl had given them the information about where to find the astronavigation charts that they'd originally come to trade for; Tannith had not been pleased with Beryl's deception about the Taris relics they'd been inadvertently smuggling, but didn't think she had any right to judge someone else for withholding information, since she was so very adept at that kind of thing.

_"__There's more to life than profit,"_ Beryl had said after Tannith questioned her about the relics. _"If people understood that, the galaxy would be a better place."_

Tannith been eager to leave this world. But after she'd heard those words, spoken with enough idealistic inflection that would have made even the most staid Jedi take heed, she knew they were true, and she knew she couldn't ignore Doctor Cel's request for aid any longer.

"Something Beryl said," she replied as she squeezed the foil pack, shifting the mealy-looking contents and resisting the urge to rub at her palm, where her injury was smarting more with each moment. "About profit and making the galaxy a better place, even if you don't get any."

"I remember that. I think she's right, too." He sounded pleased, though concern tinted his next words. "You feelin' okay, Captain?"

Annoyance flared through her and her reply was a little sharper than it should have been. "_Tannith_, Corso. There's no one here but us."

He didn't seem to notice her tone. "You look like you're about to be sick."

"I'm fine," she replied, setting down the packet. There was no way she could handle it; even the _idea_ of eating that stuff made her stomach roil. "Just craving a cigarra."

Another chill swept through her, making her shiver and rub her arms. Surely it wasn't that cold. Corso seemed comfortable enough; his armor was stacked in a neat pile beside their camp and he was just wearing the close-fitting tunic and pants he wore beneath his gear. They had perimeter alarms and sonic disruptors set up to ward away any unwelcome visitors while they slept, and things had been pretty quiet in the last couple of hours after they'd come across – and summarily obliterated – that last group of rakghouls.

At first light they were planning to head back to the Resettlement zone to allow Doctor Cel to take samples of their blood, which would – in theory – contain the necessary antibodies that would allow the scientist to create a viable serum against the rakghoul plague. Cel had asked Tannith to do this a while ago, but she'd adamantly refused, wanting only to finish her business on this world and be gone, but now...

Now she was trying to do a bit of good here, for whatever it was worth. And apparently on Taris, doing good meant deliberately infecting oneself with a plague spread by crazy monsters, then letting a Republic scientist study your blood in order to create an actual vaccine against said plague.

_What a wonderful planet_, Tannith thought dryly as she rubbed her thumb beneath the scrape on her palm to try and ease the continuing burn. _Maybe I should retire here._

"Does it hurt?" Again, Corso's voice pulled her attention back his way. Now he was studying her hands, brows slightly drawn and a slightly more concerned look on his face than had been there moments ago.

Her first instinct was to say _no, _but she didn't think he'd be put off any more, so she nodded. "A little." She glanced down at the ugly cut, which ran the vertical length of her right palm. "But not bad enough to track down the med-droid."

Doctor Cel had a medical droid "in the field," whose comm frequency they'd been given, but they'd seen hide nor hair of the thing since they'd been out here. It was quiet in the ruins, isolated and still, and everything felt..._wrong_, like there was an ominous edge to this place that made her head swim and worsened the churning in her gut. The massive pieces of buildings were silent reminders of all the lives that had been lost here, and she couldn't help but shiver at the thought. Tannith did not claim to have any strong connection to the Force, but she thought if she would have, this place would have been reeking of despair.

She shivered again and edged a little closer to the lamp.

Suddenly Corso was at her side. He'd moved silently, or perhaps it was the growing thickness in her head that prevented her from hearing anything but the sound of her own pounding blood.

"Let me see, please," he said as he knelt beside her, extending his hand for hers. She hesitated, then offered him her right hand, her fingers naturally curling around her trembling palm. There was no hesitation in his touch; he took her hand and held it lightly in both of his, examining the wound carefully.

His touch was gentle but solid; his fingers skimmed the edges of her palm and she felt their roughened tips, calloused from years of wielding weapons. The glow from the heat-lamp bathed his skin in gold as it highlighted the faint, slanting scars across his left cheek and defined the planes of his body perfectly. Each muscular curve was evident and so, so close...

The thoughts in her head swam, her stomach tightened, but this time it was different. This time it was because he was so close, and he was holding her so gently. He was always careful with her, more so than he had any right to be. It was his care that drew her in when she would have normally retreated and not looked back. She remembered her resolution on her ship, weeks ago; she'd not had the opportunity to speak about much personal stuff with him before now, but maybe now was as good a time as any.

When he looked in her eyes, she savored the warm tint of his own, made more so by the heat-lamp's glow. He looked warm, so warm, and she was cold...she felt like she'd been cold, forever.

"It don't look too bad, but you seem..." He trailed off as he studied her, then his tone sharpened with urgency. "You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to lay down?"

"With you," she managed, her words sounding thick and clumsy. Annoyed with herself, she took a breath and tried to form simple speech despite the fact that her body was conspiring against her. But it was impossible. All she could get out was his name, a stuttered whisper. "Corso..."

He cursed, softly and swiftly, and placed the back of his hand against her neck as if he was assessing her temperature. She nearly laughed because she was so cold, she thought his hand would freeze right off. Surely it was obvious, how cold she was. Maybe he didn't understand. She tried to tell him.

"I lied, Corso," she mumbled as he took her shoulders in his hands and tried to gently push her down to her sleeping-pallet. "It hurts a lot. And I'm freezing... "

"Hang in there," he replied, his eyes flickering between her hand and her face. "Try to rest, okay? I'll turn up the heat."

"Then you should just take off your shirt."

But he didn't appear to be listening. Instead, he made sure she was situated, then turned away from her to rummage through their pack again while she watched the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt. His grip had been strong and firm, like the rest of him. Utterly masculine, but not demanding. Strong. Stronger than her, she figured, considering he seemed just fine right now, and she was a hot mess.

Corso rarely complained and almost never argued. He'd let her decide to get them both injected with whatever was making her so sick, and now he was taking care of her like it was nothing. Or like she meant everything.

"I hate this planet," she told him when he returned to her side, a thermal blanket in one hand and a kolto patch in the other.

A low chuckle escaped him, but she could read the worry in his eyes. "I'm startin' to feel the same way, Tan. But hang on, this'll help."

He reached for her hand but she made a noise of disapproval. "Cel said we can't use kolto on the wound," she protested, albeit weakly. "Remember? All this will be for nothing."

Well, that's what she _meant_ to say, but she thought the words came out blurry and incomprehensible. But he seemed to understand as he frowned and shook his head. "I don't care what that scientist said. You need help."

He made to unwrap the patch. Tannith reached within herself and gathered what strength she could so that she could sit up. She thought she startled him, for his eyes widened and he didn't move back, so they were only a breath away from each other.

"Please, Corso," she said as she looked into his eyes, willing him to understand. This was important, too important. She hadn't realized before how important it was; she'd been too blind to see. He had to understand. "'m okay...just cold."

He sighed. The sound was thick and heavy, and for some reason it made her want to smile. The kolto patch disappeared in his pants-pocket and he guided her back into a reclining position so he could spread the blanket across her, tucking it around her sides and hips – though he didn't linger there like she wanted him to – and he adjusted the setting on the lamp. She could feel the increase in heat against her cheek.

"Is that better?"

It wasn't. She was still freezing. She could still feel the oppressive chill of this place invading her entire body like she was naked on the surface of Hoth. The roiling in her stomach was worse, each breath was torture and she was certain she was going to lose what food was on her stomach any minute. She hated this planet and everything on it. _Stupid fragging rakghouls. I hope they all burn in hell. _

"Captain?"

This was why she couldn't have been a Jedi, she just wasn't cut out for a life of self-sacrifice. Even when she tried to do something good, she couldn't stop moaning about it for two seconds. The greater good was nebulous and had little bearing on her life because all she really wanted was a warm shower and a cigarra, maybe a pot of Kor Vella caf...normal comforts. A simple life. It wasn't much to ask for, was it?

"Tannith?"

She didn't know when her eyes had closed, only that when they opened, Corso's face was a breath away from hers and his fear permeated the what little space there was between them. On the heels of his fear was his hand on her cheek.

His thumb brushed the bottom edge of her scar and his tone was more urgent than any she'd heard him use, yet. "Please say somethin'."

"Kiss me," she murmured.

Had she been more coherent she might have been embarrassed, but his reaction left no room for the feeling. Corso tilted his head and did as she asked, kissing her forehead once, barely a whisper of his lips against her skin, before he murmured her ear. "Try to get some rest, Captain. I'll keep watch."

Warmth flooded her, brought about as much by the pitch of his voice as the echo of his kiss, and her eyelids drooped. She still felt sick to her stomach, but the worst of the rolling had ebbed and she was starting to think she wouldn't vomit after all.

"Just 'Tan,'" she murmured. "Or you're fired."

His low, answering chuckle was filled with relief. "Alright, Tan."

There was the rustling of fabric and the faint click of his rifle as he reached for the weapon, which was his way when it was his turn at watch. She could feel his presence close beside her, and relaxed a little more. The perimeter alarms had done well so far, so she figured he'd be alerted if any unfriendlies came their way, and he was a country boy, after all, highly attuned to the rhythm of places where people were not in abundance.

Another breath helped push more of the nausea away, and she settled into the blanket a little more, half wishing she could have a shower and change of clothes. However, thinking coherently was difficult when she felt so miserable, so she chose to drop off into sleep for now.

Corso would be true to his word, he would keep watch. She could rest for a little while. Maybe when she woke up she could explain why she'd asked him to kiss her...then ask him to kiss her properly, this time.

* * *

_A/N: First kiss! Sort of... :P My apologies for the heavy exposition in this piece, but a lot of explanation was needed to set the scene. Taris presented a lot of challenges; there's some great, story-telling stuff happening there, but I had trouble landing on the "right" story to tell, if that makes sense. _

_Thank you for reading! :)_

_Next time: "Yes, she was dressed, but she may as well have been completely naked."_


	11. Taris II: Deeper

_A/N: Song lyrics used within the body of the chapter are from Tears For Fears', "Head Over Heels." Yes, it's a song from the decade of my birth. I regret nothing. :P_

* * *

**Taris II: Deeper**

_And I know this is just a beautiful illusion, _

_A case of the confusion_

_Between love and desire. _

~ "If I Didn't Know Any Better," by Alison Krauss and Union Station, from _Lonely Runs Both Ways_

_Sinking City ruins_

Corso was glad Tan got some rest at least, because for him it was a long, long night.

It was a long night that followed an even longer day, stretch of days, weeks. He hadn't been kidding about starting to hate this planet, because it seemed like every time he and the captain turned around there was some new problem to solve. Not that he minded helping out folks in need, but he'd watched the strain appear on Tannith's face, and seen the way she started to get worn down after each plaintive request.

So he'd been startled when she'd chosen to return to that lady-scientist and take part in this...experiment. Willingly injecting himself with rakghoul plague was pretty much last on the list of "things I want to do with my life," but there was no way he would've let Tan go through this on her own, so he'd chosen to take part, too.

But he was glad for the decision, especially when he saw how sick she looked, how fragile, and he didn't want to think about what would have happened had he not been around. Back at the clinic, Doctor Cel had told them that unless they started bleeding from their pores – a sure sign that the rakghoul plague was taking over the body – they would be okay. Cel had also warned that Tannith and Corso might "experience body-temperature fluctuations," which he supposed accounted for the fact that the captain claimed to be freezing when the air temp was pretty mild.

But all of those rational thoughts had fled his mind when he'd realized that Tannith didn't even seem to hear him speaking. Kriff...his stomach had dropped to his knees when he'd said her name, again and again, and she hadn't responded until he'd physically touched her. Only then had he been able to relax, and in his utter relief he'd let his control slip and brushed his hand along her cheek.

As he'd often imagined but had not prepared himself for, the softness of her skin had contrasted with the severity of her scar. He hadn't been able to stop his thumb from tracing the outline of the old injury while he wondered how she'd gotten it.

Which was when she'd made her request. Force help him, he'd imagined kissing her enough so he'd been unable to resist doing so, even though she was so disoriented. A stronger man, a better man, would have resisted. Corso had compromised by kissing her forehead innocuously, though all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her to keep her warm with his own body-heat while he kissed her within an inch of their lives.

But that was not the appropriate way to behave in this kind of situation, and he'd been raised better. So once she was settled he pushed his desires away and resolved to protect her in her sleep and make sure she got the rest she needed.

It didn't matter that he was exhausted, too. He would sleep later, when this job was over and they were safely on the ship. What mattered was not the growing heaviness in his eyes, but the task at hand. He'd told her he'd keep her safe and he kept his word. Always.

But kriff...he was tired...

* * *

When Corso opened his eyes again, dawn had just barely crept over this section of forest, brushing gold against the tips of the crumbling, nearby ruins. All around him he could hear birdsong and the calls of other harmless creatures as they greeted the day. He blinked a few times and sat up, silently thankful for the perimeter alarms that had kept watch in his place, then his eyes fell on the empty sleeping-pallet beside him.

The captain was gone.

He was completely awake and on his feet within the space of a heartbeat; he'd slept with his rifle in his lap, so he slung it over his shoulder and glanced around, searching for a sign of her and trying to ignore the sudden race of his heart. "Tannith?"

No answer. Her boots were gone too, so his first thought was that she'd had to use the 'fresher, or whatever nearby bush would pass for one out here. Maybe it was good that she'd gotten up without waking him; it showed that she was feeling better, right?

Corso was a terrible liar, even just to himself. "Captain?"

No doubt she'd be annoyed that he called her by the title, but if it brought her back to him safely, he'd take her anger any day. It'd be well worth it.

But there was no reply. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his hair, trying to think where she would have gone. The forest was thick here, nearly oppressive, and he felt fear coil in his gut. She could be anywhere. If she'd been in a fever and stumbled off to relieve herself, there was no telling where she could have wound up. He took a few steps forward, scanning the ground for her footprints. He'd never been great at tracking, but he was more than willing to give it a shot.

A soft splashing sound made his head jerk up, and relief swelled in his chest, nearly painful in its intensity. _Of course_. There was a pond nearby – they'd seen it yesterday – and she'd mentioned that she wanted a shower. Maybe she'd settled for an impromptu bath. He moved towards the source of the noise.

When he saw the sparkling edge of the water through the trees he stopped and listened, unwilling to sneak up on her unawares if she wasn't dressed but needing to make sure it was really her and not some wild critter.

Tannith's presence was confirmed when he heard more splashing, accompanied by a _really_ tone-deaf rendition of a popular cantina song that made him want to laugh in relief as much as amusement.

_"__You keep your distance with a system of touch...and gentle persuasion," _she belted out. "_I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Or are you wasting my time? You're just, just wasting time..."_

He'd never heard her sing, and reckoned this was why. Her singing voice was...well, off-key was putting it nicely. "_I made a fire, and watching it burn, I thought of our future. With one foot in the past, now just how long will it last?"_

"Tannith," he called out, pitching his voice to carry the ten meters or so to the pond. "Everything alright?"

The singing stopped abruptly and there was more splashing, then silence. Worry churned in his gut all over again when she did not respond. "Tannith?"

"I'm here, Corso," she replied at last, though he thought her voice sounded fuzzy and a little too light.

His instincts told him that something was wrong, but he tried to withhold the urge to put his eyes on her until he knew if she was dressed or not. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she called back. "I need your help."

_Help?_ He fought back the leap of arousal at the thought of what she might need _help _with if she was splashing around naked. Or...not naked. From here he could see that her boots were discarded on the ground and he didn't see her clothes anywhere, but then, he really couldn't see everything from this position...

_This ain't gonna end well for me. _Corso took a deep breath and ensured his voice was clear. "Are you still feelin' sick?"

"No," she answered. "But it's so hot, here, isn't it? This kriffing planet is ridiculous. I can't get comfortable. I want to crawl out of my skin...I'm roasting."

It wasn't hot, not even a little. Mornings, like evenings, on Taris tended to be cool; the sun eventually burned away the cool, but right now it was actually pretty temperate. He remembered last night when she'd claimed to be freezing cold, and decided this was another side-effect of the rakghoul serum.

"You should get dressed and come back, Captain." Somehow, he'd slipped back into formality.

Her answering laugh was light and airy. "I _am_ dressed, Corso."

A relieved exhale left him; she must just be wading or something. At least it meant he could look at her. Corso nodded to himself and cleared his throat. "Do you really need my help?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, splashing again. "Very much."

_No, _his brain warned even as his body responded with an eager and emphatic _yes. _Corso was well and truly torn for a second, but eventually he made a decision. He took a breath. "Alright, I'm coming."

"Not yet, but maybe soon. If you're lucky."

The words made his face get hot but he was already stepping past the trees so that he could see the pond. It was small and shallow, surrounded by several, wide-trunked trees and dotted with fallen leaves. The captain was standing at the center and he realized at once that she _was _dressed in her tunic and pants, but she had apparently decided to go for a dip anyway.

Standing as she was, the water only came to her mid-thighs, but every inch of her was sopping wet. Her crimson hair was unbound and dark with water, falling just past her shoulders and begging for him to run his hands through the strands. Water dripped down her breasts; he could clearly see their outlines through her thin tunic, while the tunic itself clung to the curve of her hips like a second skin.

Yes, she was dressed, but she may as well have been completely naked.

For a second too long his brain was overloaded with the image of his beautiful, soaking-wet captain, then he snapped himself out of his haze and whirled away from her, desperately trying to rein in his body's instinctive reaction to the sight.

"Corso, aren't you hot?"

_Think of something not-sexy, _he told himself, balling his fists at his sides._ Rakghouls, or savrips, or that guy frozen in carbonite in the _Lucky Strike_'s cargo hold..._

There was another splashing sound, then she spoke again. "Kriff, it's boiling, here. I feel like I'm going to..."

Irritation tinted her words, but there was also a faded edge to them that set him on alert and pushed past his arousal. She still sounded airy, but in an alarming way. As he was trying to work out what to say in reply, he heard another splash, but this was not the sound of someone stepping though a pond; this was a heavy sound, like something human-sized had fallen into the water.

All thoughts fell away, save the singular drive to know that she was okay. Corso glanced behind him to make sure of the fact.

He saw nothing and his heart stopped.

No, _there_! He could see her beneath the surface of the pond, pale skin and crimson hair drifting aimlessly as it caught in a shaft of morning light. She wasn't moving. He didn't think this was a game or a joke, so he cast his rifle to the ground and plunged though the water, sloshing ungracefully in his haste to reach her side. Within less than a minute he reached his captain, and Corso forgot to be embarrassed as he hefted her out of the water, lifting her limp form in his arms before turning and making his way to the sandy shore.

He set her down as gently as he could while his heart started to race furiously. Tannith's eyes were closed, her mouth slightly agape and there was a deep, feverish flush to her cheeks. Once she coughed up some water he saw that she was breathing, but she didn't respond to him and his heart lashed even harder.

Panic threatened to take him; he tried to keep it at bay. Panic was useless and would help nobody. Keeping her safe was his duty, his role, his choice, and he'd be damned if he let her down, too. He called her name in between checking her pulse – _fast, too fast_ – pulling out his holo and calling Doctor Cel, all while struggling to keep his calm.

Corso had never been much for religion, but he prayed to whatever gods still lived on this frakking world that she would _wake up_.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: dealing with Doctor Cel, plus more - if slightly different - awkwardness._


	12. Taris III: Inkling

**Taris III: Inkling**

_I turned around._

_Before I could run, I found you already settled down_

_In the back of my mind._

~ "If I Didn't Know Any Better," by Alison Krauss and Union Station, from _Lonely Runs Both Ways_

_Waypoint Station Aurek, later that day_

Corso looked up as Doctor Cel emerged from the waypoint's small clinic with a thoughtful expression on her face. He'd been trying to pass the last couple of hours with a few random tasks, but had given up about fifteen minutes in and started pacing back and forth across the duracrete walkway just outside. "How is she?"

The doctor's green eyes seemed to refocus back to him and she smiled reassuringly. "Just fine. Once she gets a bit of rest, she'll be fully recovered from the effects of the serum."

A deep exhale left Corso and he nearly sagged in relief as the Republic doctor continued. "We owe her – both of you, really – a huge debt. Thanks to your efforts, we can create a viable cure for the plague. Hopefully, I'll have a vaccine developed within a few months."

Truthfully, he was hardly listening. Mostly he was trying to peer behind the short haired woman to get a look inside the little clinic behind her, where the captain was lying in one of the small cots lined up in a neat row. Ever since the med-droid and Doctor Cel had taken the captain back there, he had been unable to think about much else other than...

Well, it was over, now. Best to put it behind him and move on. He forced himself to look back at the doctor. "That's...good news."

She gave him another bright smile. "You're still feeling okay? No ill-effects?"

"I'm fine." He frowned in thought. "Do you know why it hit her like it did?"

"That's an excellent question," the doctor mused. "Unfortunately, I don't have an answer right now. Unless..." She tapped her chin with her index finger. "Is your captain Force-sensitive, by any chance? Our records show that the plague will affect Force-sensitives differently than regular people."

Corso had no reply to that, but something tugged at his brain as he remembered the strange callouses he'd noted on her palm when he'd examined her cut last night. There had been the expected ones, same as he had, from wielding a blaster, but there were other, faint ones that spoke of long hours using a vibrosword.

Or a lightsaber.

But there was _no_ way the captain was a Jedi. Jedi were powerful and preachy. They were staid and distant and emotionless, everything Tannith was not, despite the mask she tried to wear most of the time. Well, she was powerful, but in a different way than a Jedi. She was agile, too, but so were a lot of people. It didn't mean anything.

_Even if she was_, he thought suddenly. _It wouldn't change how I feel_. Tan was entitled to her secrets, as was anyone. He may not have liked the fact that she kept them, but she'd given him no reason to think she was anything other than a good and decent person.

So he only shook his head. "Far as I know, she's just...ordinary."

But that wasn't true. Tan wasn't ordinary. There was no one like her in the entire galaxy: sharp, strong, kind...he'd watched her kindness grow more evident on this world, despite the protests she made to the contrary. Even at the risk of her own safety, his captain wanted to help the people here because it was the right thing to do. It was a rare woman – hell, a rare _person_ – who'd take that kind of gamble, one that came with little to no material reward.

Not looking quite convinced, Doctor Cel stepped aside and motioned for him to enter the little prefab building that housed the clinic. "She's awake. If you want to see her, go ahead."

The words had barely left her lips when he was brushing past her shoulder and into the dim room. There were about half a dozen cots lined up but only one that held anything of importance to Corso Riggs. At first glance he thought his captain was sleeping, but at his approach her eyes opened and fell on him, and she smiled. It was a slow, heavy smile, but it made his heart light.

"Hey there, Captain," he said as he took a knee by the cot. "How you feelin'?"

She blinked a few times, then yawned. "Anxious to _not_ be on Taris any more."

Corso chuckled and ran his eyes across her form, assessing her for damage mostly to reassure himself that she was okay. "Doc says you're going to be back to normal after some rest, so you should probably just try and sleep."

But she didn't reply right away. Instead, she studied him for a moment, seeming to consider something. Finally she spoke, hesitantly. "I don't remember anything after last night."

Heat crept to his cheeks as he recalled the outline of her curves through her soaking clothing. It was an image he would never forget, though right now he kind of wished he could, if only to save her any embarrassment. "Ah...well, I wouldn't worry about all that right now-"

"Worry about what?" She began to wiggle beneath the thin sheet in an effort to sit upright. "Corso...what happened? What did I say? Oh, kriff...what did I _do_?"

"It ain't really important," he replied, but she reached out and put a hand on his forearm.

"Please tell me."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You...went for a swim this morning. With your clothes on," he added as her eyes widened. "But...well, you weren't wearin' a whole lot in the first place, and you said you needed help, so I-"

Tan seemed a lot more awake now than she'd been moments ago. Force above and beyond, her stare could bore a hole through a man's skull. "You _what_?"

"I didn't see you at first," he continued quickly. "At first I thought you were takin' a bath or something so I made _sure_ I couldn't see anything, then you said you needed my help and that you were dressed, so I came out. But when I finally did see you..."

Kriff, his whole face was burning now and her eyes had gotten bigger with each word, but he tried to push forward and just get this over with. "You _were_ dressed, Captain, but I could still...uh...see _parts_ of you." He waved a hand to try and convey the idea without going into a detailed description. "Well, there wasn't a whole lot left to the imagination."

She was silent for a moment, her lips pursed in thought. Finally her head dropped and her hands lifted to cover her face; alarm coursed through him when he watched her shoulders start to shake, and he instinctively reached out to touch her upper arm, to offer some comfort. "I'm sorry, Captain. I really didn't mean to-"

But her hands dropped and he saw that she was laughing. Hard. At his startled look, she seemed to laugh even harder, nearly doubling over as the sound bubbled up through the clinic. It was a great laugh, throaty and full, the kind that came from being trapped deep inside for too long.

"Oh, Corso," she giggled after she managed to compose herself. "Wow. I'm sorry about that."

"It wasn't your fault," he said firmly, dropping his hand and shifting in his kneel. "You weren't in your right mind."

"Maybe," she replied as she swiped at her eyes. "But it's still damn awkward."

"You passed out while you were standin' in the water. I had to carry you to the shore, so I..." He trailed off, wondering how his face could possibly get any hotter. "I had to touch you when you were...like that. It was only to make sure you wouldn't drown, though."

Seemingly unfazed, she chuckled again. "Then thank you for being a gentleman _and_ getting me to safety."

"Of course." He shifted; his legs were starting to fall asleep but he was unwilling to leave her side just yet. "You really feel better? I was kinda worried."

An understatement if there ever was one, and he thought she knew it. When she looked at him this time, there was a softness to her gaze that had not been there before. "Much better. I'm sorry I gave you a scare."

He shrugged. Being worried for her safety was quickly becoming familiar, but he didn't see any reason to go into all that right now. "Don't worry about it."

She nodded, then smoothed her bangs away from her eyes, not looking at him as she spoke. "That wasn't how I would have wanted that moment to go, by the way." At his look of confusion she met his gaze and gave a rueful sort of smile. "There are definitely more subtle ways to come on to a guy."

There was that damn heat in his cheeks again, and he really hoped the lack of light of the clinic would keep her from seeing if his face was flushed. Before he could say anything in reply, Doctor Cel bustled back in and began peppering the captain with questions.

When it became apparent that he was only in the way, Corso slipped outside and sent a quick message to Risha, who'd been in communication with Lieutenant Boz. The Republic soldier was stuck in a covert-ops mission somewhere, but Corso had wanted to make sure he was aware of what was going on with Tan.

After Corso finished the message and stowed his holo-comm, he looked around, wondering what to do next. It was late afternoon on this part of Taris. Maybe he should have found someplace else to go, but there wasn't much to do out here. He'd already checked their supplies a hundred times over and his rifle was so clean he could have eaten off of it. The waypoint wasn't exactly bustling, but there were enough people around so that no one took much mind of the guy in dreadlocks standing awkwardly in front of the clinic and looking like he didn't know quite what to do with himself.

His captain had a way of unsettling him. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling, but he'd never felt this way about anyone before and wasn't sure what to make of it. If she'd been any other woman he would have flirted with her, (well, as much as he could, given the fact that he wasn't much of a smooth-operator), maybe tried to open the door for..._something_. A fling was probably the right term.

Though he'd never had a "fling," it wasn't unheard of to mix business with pleasure, and he and Tannith didn't have a formal contract. Their working arrangement was casual and by choice; he thought a similar romantic relationship was the kind of thing to naturally spring up from such an arrangement. Maybe it could work.

But...

There was nothing casual about the fear he'd felt when he held her limp body in his arms back by the pond, or the way he'd paced outside the clinic for hours while he waited for Doctor Cel's prognosis. He knew that he'd be lying to himself if he thought he could ever be _casual_ about anything regarding his captain.

_So now what? _

Corso glanced behind him into the clinic, where he could hear that the doctor and the captain had started to argue about something, and he had a feeling they'd be leaving shortly. Though he would have chosen to follow the doctor's instruction, he knew Tannith well-enough now to figure that she wouldn't take kindly to forced bedrest, and he was flooded with gratitude all over again because she was alive and well.

No, whatever he felt for Tan was not casual and it hadn't been for a long time, if it ever had. If anything, his attraction had only gotten stronger, and he didn't think he could ever treat her like a fling, like someone he didn't see himself with years down the hyperlane. It was more, with her. She was _more._

But he reckoned it was still smarter to hang back and follow her lead, as he'd done so far. He'd let the captain risk his life and limb almost daily, so he thought maybe he'd let her risk his heart as well.

She hadn't yet steered him wrong.

The sound of her voice yanked him out of his thoughts. "Corso?"

"Captain?"

He turned to see Tan sitting at the edge of her cot, reaching for her jacket where it had been laid at her feet, along with her holster. "Please tell me you have Flashy," she said as she slid on her jacket. "I don't see my weapons anywhere."

A smile came to his face as he patted his hips, where he'd stowed her blasters, and he stepped forward into the clinic once more. "Right here, Captain."

"Great." She stood up a little shakily, but waved off his offer of assistance with a claim that she was fine. As she pulled her gear back on, she shot a look at the doctor, who'd stepped aside to allow her room to maneuver. "Thanks for everything, but I think I never want to look at this place again."

Doctor Cel was watching with a less-than-pleased expression. "Captain Tainn, you really should rest a few more hours."

"Noted," Tannith said firmly, accepting her blasters from Corso with a nod. "But we've got urgent business elsewhere."

"Then please know that the antibodies we've gained from your blood will save many lives," Doctor Cel added after a beat. "It was worth every hardship, and you have my thanks." She paused as Tannith slid her weapons in their holsters, then cleared her throat. "As for the other matter we discussed-"

"I've got it under control."

But the doctor didn't seem convinced, whatever they were talking about. "Are you sure? If there's a relapse-"

The captain straightened her spine and met Cel's eyes. When she spoke, her voice was polite but resonated with authority. "Thanks for everything, Doc. We'll be leaving now."

She turned to Corso and thumbed towards the exit. "Let's haul jets. We've got a vault to find."

_What was that about? _He wanted to ask, but she had _that look _on her face, the kind that meant she was set on a course and would not be deviated from it, so he reckoned asking her wouldn't do much good right now.

"Right behind you," he replied as they slipped into the evening.

* * *

_A/N: Believe it or not, I don't want Tan's Force-sensitivity to be a big issue for anyone but her; it's something she has to learn to deal with, (not just ignore). More on it later. :)_

_Next time: face-off in the hangar. _

_Thanks for reading! :D_

_Not-so-shameless plug: I'm writing a novel! :D If you're curious about it, check out my Fictionpress account. (The link is on my author page.) _


	13. Taris IV: Clarity

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Taris portion of the smuggler storyline. _

_Note: Much of the dialog in this chapter has been reprinted without permission from whoever owns the game, (Disney or Bioware, I think, but I can't keep it straight. :P) As always, I don't own anything recognizable; I'm just borrowing and having fun. :)_

* * *

**Taris IV: Clarity**

_On the borderline,_

_Somewhere between the flight for freedom_

_And feeling like you can't move on._

~ "Borderline," by Alison Krauss and Union Station, from the album_, Lonely Runs Both Ways_

_Olaris Spaceport hangar_

Tannith didn't like bullies.

She and Corso had just stepped off of the _Lucky Strike's _boarding ramp when Agent Soganti, the Republic Customs enforcer on this toxic mudball, approached her ship. Clad in the usual, drab attire of most official-types, the Tarisian officer had a self-important gleam in his eye and a swagger in his step, both of which reminded Tannith of his unofficial mission to catch her hand in the proverbial cookie-jar, and she felt the knot of anger that had recently started forming in her chest began to tighten.

"Remember me, Captain Tainn?" It wasn't really a question. Soganti's voice was civil, but barely, and it was only a moment before Tannith and Corso were subtly but effectively hemmed in by the uniformed men who flanked the officer.

"I have some questions about Beryl Thorne," the dark-skinned agent continued, raising a brow looking for all the galaxy like he was daring Tannith to object.

Even with her blasters slung at her hips, Tannith knew she didn't present a very imposing figure, which was why she reckoned this barve had decided to try and make her life miserable from the moment her boots touched the duracrete hangar.

Bad enough Skavak wasn't even on-planet and they were going to have to settle for blasting a couple of his hired guns; bad enough that she and Corso had been stuck on this karking dirtball for far too long; bad enough her own secret had nearly been outed yesterday by a nosy Republic scientist.

Though after a good night's sleep she was fully recovered from the effects of the rakghoul serum, Tannith still felt uneasy about the whole mess with Doctor Cel, primarily because she'd spent so much energy keeping her secret safe and all of her efforts had almost come to nothing. She'd hidden her past for so long that now it was habitual; she could hardly think of another kind of existence. The idea of telling anyone, _anyone_, about her former life, even about her mild Force-sensitivity, filled her with anxiety.

Suffice it to say, Tannith was not in the best mood to deal with a bully like Soganti.

But practically speaking, arguing with the customs enforcer now would cause unnecessary delay, and as big of a kick as Tannith thought she'd get out of telling him off, she and Corso were on a time-sensitive job.

So she gave the agent her most polite, neutral smile, the kind that would have fit right in at any Jedi Temple. (She chose _not_ to dwell on the irony of that thought.) "Yes?"

As Soganti approached, Tannith swore his swagger became more evident with each step. "I suspect Thorne is smuggling relics, and I think I know how she's doing it. What I lack is proof."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tannith spotted a tightening of Corso's jaw, the kind she knew meant he was holding back a sharp retort. She knew how he felt, and tried not to roll her eyes at the customs enforcer. Beryl had seemed like a kind, decent person, whose motives were good even if her methods were less-than-forthright. No matter what, she wasn't hurting anyone with her actions, (unlike her former partner and first-mate), for all that the Republic Customs agent didn't seem to care about such a piddling matter as _decency_.

"I need someone to step forward and testify so I can arrest her." Soganti cocked his head at Tannith, adding a raised brow for good measure right before the even cadence of his voice became laced with warning. "I'm looking for an _honest_ citizen, Captain."

This was too much. A bully was a bully, even – or especially – when he was sneaky about it. Everyone present in the spaceport knew that Soganti could simply haul her and Corso in if they had been caught doing anything wrong; he hadn't done so because they were here on legitimate (ish) business, and she knew that must have infuriated the self-righteous, self-important little man.

With this thought she couldn't help but smirk. "Alright. When I see one, I'll let you know."

Clearly not amused, Soganti frowned. "That's funny. _Really._" A beat passed as he eyed Tannith again, then he began pacing before her and Corso, his words taking on an increasingly lofty tone with each step. "I'm authorized to pay a generous sum for any lead resulting in an arrest. We can help each other out, Captain. You should think about what's best for _you_."

This last part was said as Soganti came to a stop before Tannith, crossing his arms before his chest as he gave her what she imagined was his most intimidating stare. It made her want to punch him in the nose. Hard. "Are you absolutely _sure_ you don't know anything about Beryl Thorne's activities, Captain Tainn?"

_Resist the urge to pummel him, _she thought, working to maintain her semblance of indifference. Going to jail would only draw out their stay on this mudball. Beside her, Corso shifted in place, and she wondered idly if he was fighting the same urges. Probably.

It was becoming clearer with each moment that Soganti would never let well-enough alone; he was a man on a mission, and he would probably not rest until he had _someone_ in custody. Well, then. Tannith had a name she could offer; Beryl's first mate and partner had proven himself to be pretty scummy, after all.

Maybe doing so would keep the customs agent busy until she and Corso were light-years away. She gave her most contrite look and tried to sound like she didn't want to hit anyone. "I can tell you that Tyrodall is the real smuggler, Agent Soganti."

"Thorne's partner?" Soganti's brow lifted. "Is that so?"

The skeptical expression that crawled across the customs agent's face made her realize that her hopes of directing his attention away from Beryl were most likely in vain. Soganti had made it pretty clear what he thought about folks like her: that anyone _not_ in a uniform, was a bottom-feeding, lying space-head.

In spite of her efforts to remain calm, the anger that swelled within her was strong enough to make her chest twinge and her jaw prickle, like she'd tasted something sour. Suddenly, the urge to punch Soganti's face shifted to an urge to cause injury to another, more southern region on the guy.

As she took another deep breath to collect herself, Tannith acknowledged that this was why she'd make a terrible Jedi. _A Jedi does not hold onto anger or bitterness_, she thought wryly, recalling the lessons that had been drilled into her since she was a youngling. _A Jedi experiences emotions, but does not let them control her actions or her words. _

"What do you have to back up that accusation?" Soganti's brow lifted and his voice dripped with patronizing disbelief.

A good Jedi would have recognized that the customs enforcer was only doing his job and found a way to work with the man, no matter how insufferable he was. In her head, Tannith was rolling her eyes something fierce. _Bet he'd believe me if I was a Jedi._

She'd walked away from that life and never looked back, and never once regretted the choice. However, lately it seemed like her past had a way of resurfacing, so when a particularly irreverent idea entered her mind she found the temptation too strong to resist.

Besides, _no_ _one_ could beat a Corellian when it came to the art of bluffing.

Tannith met Soganti's lifted brow with one of her own. "Just my Jedi powers, Agent."

Silence dropped into the hangar with the force of a thermal detonator, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to openly laugh at the expression of shock that crossed Soganti's face. As she smirked at the customs agent, she caught Corso's furrowed brow and the accompanying tilt of his head, both of which indicated his curiosity, but he seemed content to keep quiet and let her do the talking.

She shouldn't have said anything else, because it really was no joking matter, but Soganti was just so damn self-righteous...he would have exasperated even the most staid Jedi and Tannith couldn't stop herself from adding: "The Force told me Tyrodall is evil. _Seriously – _he's a real gundark's you-know-what."

Beside her, Corso snorted with laughter, though the sound quickly merged into a cough when Soganti shot a glare his way. If looks could kill, Tannith reckoned she and Corso would be maimed pretty bad – at least.

"Laugh it up, all the way to a prison cell," Soganti growled. "Because that's where you're headed."

_Oooh...big talk. _Saying nothing, she only crossed her arms and gave him a blank look, until the agent gestured to his men and the group of them turned and began to walk away.

She'd hoped they would just leave, but Soganti took a moment to pause and cast a parting comment over his shoulder. "Nobody escapes justice forever, Captain. _Nobody._"

Tannith chuckled. "Keep practicing that line, Agent. Someday, it might scare someone."

Soganti continued walking, but the set of his shoulders indicated he, too, was ready for this interaction to be over. "Let's go, men."

The second the officers were out of earshot, Corso and Tannith exchanged glances and promptly dissolved into a fit of laughter. The frustration that had been tightening in her chest seemed to bubble up and out, and she felt a huge wave of relief even though their job wasn't over yet.

Tannith laughed until her side ached, hard enough so that her eyes teared up and she had to put a hand on Corso's armored shoulder to steady herself. Like her, he was nearly bent over with mirth, but the instant her hand touched him his laughter quieted.

Alarmed at the sudden change in his mannerism, she straightened and met his eyes. "Corso? Is everything okay?"

As she spoke, she made to lift her palm from his shoulder, but he stilled her by resting his own gloved hand on hers and giving her a soft smile that she thought was meant to reassure. He squeezed once, gently, then indicated the hangar's exit, where Soganti and his lackeys had disappeared. "That agent won't give up. Beryl needs to clear out of here."

Back to business, of course. They had a lot to discuss – she was still unclear on what had happened during her feverish night – but his words reminded her that there were other things more pressing than their personal lives. Hopefully there would be time for all of that later.

But she could still feel his grip around her, even after he released her hand. She sighed and nodded. "Agreed. I don't want her getting caught."

"Me neither," Corso said, and they began to hurry towards the exit. "She's one of the good guys. We should drop by her place before we catch up with Skavak's thugs; it's the least we can do."

Corso's boots echoed in the cavernous room while her own were silent. Neither one of them spoke until they reached the doorway that would lead them into the spaceport proper, then Corso paused and glanced her way. "For what it's worth, Captain, you're doin' the right thing here."

Tannith shrugged. "We both know Beryl hasn't done anything _really _wrong."

"Yeah, but that's not just what I mean." He took a deep breath and held her eyes with his. "I mean on this whole planet...everything you've done on Taris; I think you've made the right choices, even when they cost you a lot. You care about what happens to these people and that's..."

He trailed off and she watched, amused and captivated, as a flush crept across his face. "Corso?"

"That's...well, I think that's real good of you," he finished at last, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Honestly, I'm not sure I know anyone else who'd go through what you did with the rakghoul serum, just to help out these folks."

For a moment Tannith was stunned into silence. Absently, her hand lifted to smooth away her bangs, and her fingertips brushed against the scar on her cheek. No matter what Corso (or anyone else) thought, she knew it was all a bluff. He was right; not many others in their line of work would have wasted their time with helping the Tarisians.

She wasn't strong enough to be a Jedi and she wasn't savvy enough to smuggle for a living._ Do I really belong anywhere?_

But those feelings of doubt were fleeting, and she was able to shake them away after a moment. She'd made her choices and she would face them, head-on, though the thought occurred to her that it was a little easier to do so with Corso's steadfast presence at her side. The way he was looking at her, like she was something special, made her want to be _better_. It made her want to be someone worthy of a look like that.

So she offered him a smile, reached for his hand and squeezed it once in an echo of his earlier gesture to her; doing so pushed away the last of her agitation from the thoughts of her own past, the encounter with Soganti and everything else that had occurred on this world, and left her feeling ready to face what was to come.

"Thanks, Corso. But you know, you're right here with me."

His head dipped once in a nod; his reply was low and quiet, but it filled her with strength. "We're in this together, Tan."

Even when she released his hand he smiled back, and they slipped out of the hangar, side-by-side.

* * *

_Soganti was too entertaining to _not_ mess with in this fic. :P For those of you not familiar with the game, most of his and Tan's convo is verbatim, as is a little bit that she and Corso shared. The "fluffy" stuff towards the end is all mine. ;)_

_Thank you for reading!_

_Next time: a chat with Risha. _


	14. Interlude in the Black II: Accord

**Interlude in the Black II: Accord**

_Cargo hold of the_ Lucky Strike

The minute she and Corso returned to the _Strike, _Tannith asked him to get the ship prepped for takeoff while she went to find Risha. Thank the Force, they were about to be away from Taris, and she was looking forward to putting this planet behind her, once and for all.

"Hey, Risha, we got those nav charts..."

She trailed off as she crossed over the threshold of her cargo bay, her mouth falling open at the state of the area. Much of it was as she remembered: boxes and crates in stacks around the room, along with a caged shanjaru, a head-in-a-jar, and a man frozen in carbonite, all of which had – apparently – accompanied Risha; the brown-haired woman claimed they were future deliveries and _perfectly safe,_ but they creeped Tannith out – especially the strange guy's head, preserved in a jar and resting on a nearby crate.

However, she was only speechless for a moment before she shot a glare at the brown-haired woman standing before the engine's computer station**. **"What the blazes did you do to my hold?"

"What do you mean?" Risha's voice was calm, if a little distracted as she glanced from a datapad to the console before her. "We discussed the shanjaru and everything else before Taris."

"I'm not talking about that stuff." Tannith hopped down the steps and gestured around the hold, at the stacks of cargo that had most definitely _not _been set like that the last time she was here. "I'm talking about all my crates...all my supplies."

The console beeped quietly as Risha entered data, and boredom seeped from her voice. "What about your supplies?"

Tannith took a deep breath and tried to be just as nonchalant. She didn't think she was successful. "They're...everything's _different_."

Turning, Risha regarded the captain and arched one perfectly sculpted brow. "You're extraordinarily perceptive today. Here I was worried the rakghoul serum would have muddled your brain."

"You-" Tannith tightened her hands into fists at her sides. "What. Did. You. _Do_?"

A slight huff left Risha and she crossed her arms before her chest. "To your hold? I _cleaned _it, if that's what you're referring to."

"My hold was _fine_-"

"It was _chaos_," Risha broke in, shaking her head. "I could hardly move around, and forget finding anything." She paused, then gave Tannith a startled look. "You mean to say that you _meant _for your cargo hold to look like that? I thought it was leftovers from Skavak."

The mention of that mudcrutch's name kicked Tannith's ire up another notch, and she glared at the other woman. "I had a system, and Skavak destroyed it! I spent _hours_ organizing things in here on the way from Corrie. Remember?"

Risha's forehead creased as she glanced around again. "Hmm. Well, I fixed it."

Tannith gestured to the massive cage that held a snoring reptilian beast; it had been there since they'd left Corrie, and she'd been assured that it was sedated enough to keep it quiet, but still. "It's bad enough that you promised I'd deliver that shanjaru-thing _and_ your friend in carbonite."

For one moment, Risha's gaze flicked to the frozen, upright block of carbonite beside her, then she shrugged. "I've got everything under control. You don't have to worry about your hold any more, Captain."

This was too much. Tannith stepped forward and placed herself directly in Risha's field of vision, barely an arm's length away. "I've put up with your presence because you haven't given me a reason to think you're lying, or untrustworthy. But this is _my _ship, Risha, and as long as you're living here, you need to remember that _I _call the shots."

"I'm going to make you _rich,_" Risha shot back, lifting her shoulders and meeting Tannith's ire with cool competence. "And if you want to succeed at this game, you'd be smart to let me help you out. Running a ship like this – fuel, parts and repairs, paying a crew – it all costs _money_."

"You think I don't know that?" Tannith scowled and shook her head. "Of course I do. But sometimes the payoff isn't worth the trouble. If I hadn't taken on that first delivery for Skavak, I'd never have lost the _Strike_. I'd never have spent weeks and weeks trying to get her back, losing money all the while."

She'd also never have met Corso, but that was a thought for another time.

It was Risha's turn to take a deep breath, though on her the action simply served to make her seem more collected; by contrast, Tannith couldn't help but be all-too-aware of the fact that she'd not had a decent shower in over a week and she felt grubby, hot and tired. The presence of the creepy severed head-in-a-jar did not improve her mood.

When Risha spoke again, her tone was more conciliatory. "I know this is _your _ship, Captain, which is why I've worked hard to prove myself worthy of your trust. Hasn't all of my information has been correct?"

Tannith crossed her arms but said nothing as Risha sighed and continued, pulling the datapad off of the console. "I was up front with you about the situation on Taris when you asked, and I have our next delivery all lined up – the shanjaru will be out of your hair soon. Before you know it, you'll be rolling in Nok Drayen's fortune."

Reclaiming the lost fortune of a dead crime-lord had not been an opportunity Tannith could have anticipated, but Risha provided the means, and after being out of work for so long when her ship had been missing, Tannith had to admit that the promise of a lot of cash was more than a little enticing.

Not for the first time she wished she had enough Force-ability to discern whether or not someone was being truthful, but she knew it was a futile hope. Ultimately, the situation boiled down to practicality. While she didn't entirely trust Risha, Tannith needed food, fuel and caf, and all of those things required money; having been out of the gamefor so long, Tannith was short on work, work that Risha had been able to provide.

Tannith sighed. It was looking like she'd have to try and trust the other woman, at least for now.

Risha handed over the 'pad and Tannith scanned the screen, noting the location. "So that critter's going to Nar Shaddaa?"

"With any luck, it'll just be a simple drop-off," Risha said with a nod. To the side, the sleeping shanjaru let out a rumbling snore that vibrated the bulkhead.

"Don't jinx anything – my luck has been fickle, lately." As Tannith handed back the 'pad, she glanced around again and ran a hand through her hair, which felt a bit greasy. "I had a system that worked just fine."

"And I had a better one." There was a pause as Risha set the datapad back down, then she looked the captain once more. "Believe me when I say that I understand what you mean about the payoff being worth the trouble, but I promise you; this payoff _is _worth it."

The two women regarded each other for a moment before Tannith jerked her chin towards the doorway. "I'm going to attempt to wash off the stink of Taris; in the meantime, Corso's in charge."

"The farm-boy?" Risha sounded like she was torn between disbelief and amusement.

Nodding, Tannith turned to slip out of the cargo bay, trying not to look at the head-in-a-jar as she went. When she reached the threshold, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh...I almost forgot: welcome to the _Lucky Strike_, Risha. Don't double-cross me."

A low laugh followed her into the corridor. "Wouldn't dream of it, Captain."

* * *

_Not quite a "romance-y" chapter, but I enjoy the friendship between the captain and Risha. There's also the fact that Risha kind of shows up and takes charge, whether or not anyone wants her to, so I wanted to address that a little more than what happens in-game. _

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: "Drunken gunplay." ;) Squee! _


	15. Interlude in the Black III: Intoxicated

_Again, I don't own any of the dialog, though I did change a few things to help with the flow. This chapter might be a strong "T" for some mild sexual themes. Also it probably contains spoilers, but honestly, if you're reading this...you probably don't care. ;)_

* * *

**Interlude in the Black III: Intoxicated**

_Bridge of the _Lucky Strike

_En route to Nar Shaddaa_

Tannith took a drink of caf and gave a contented sigh at the trickle of heat that worked its way down her throat. A sweep of her eyes across the _Strike_'s controls assured her that all was well on her little ship – had been for some hours, now – and the miasma of hyperspace beyond the viewport indicated that they were well on their way to the Hutt-controlled moon.

By her estimation, they'd reach Nar Shaddaa in about fifteen hours. She hoped the actual delivery wouldn't take as long; she'd only been to the moon a few times before, but had never cared for it. Too busy, too crowded. Too many people with their own agendas.

The one upside was that the Hutts were far more amenable to smokers than anyone on Corrie, where cigarra-friendly areas were few and far between. But she didn't need a cigarra now, not here at home. Here, she was relaxed, about as relaxed as she'd been in some time.

Apparently she wasn't the only one.

The echo of bootsteps through the corridor made her turn. Corso was leaning against the doorway with one hand, eyes scanning the bridge as if to verify that everything was as it should be. When he realized she was looking at him he straightened. "Up for some company?"

His voice was slightly blurry and she remembered that he'd taken a flask of liquor – Mantellian Moonshine, she thought he'd called it – to his bunk after dinner, citing a need to relax after all the business on Taris. She didn't blame him; it'd been a harrowing experience all around.

"Sure," she said, indicating the co-pilot's seat. Normally she liked being alone at the helm, but the thought of Corso's company was not unwelcome. Far from it.

There was a wobble to his gait that normally wasn't present, and she had to bite back a chuckle at the look of utter concentration on his face as he approached her. He didn't sit in the co-pilot's chair; instead, he stood with one hand resting on the back of her seat and gazed at hyperspace.

Tannith sipped her caf and leaned back into her seat again, studying him through the corner of her eye. His cheeks were a little flushed, his gaze a little slippery. She wondered if the hand resting on her chair was doing so for stability.

Neither spoke for a moment before he glanced down at her. "Life with you is almost enough to get me missin' the good old days."

"How's that?"

He was drunk, but she was curious about his line of thought. Corso's proximity, too, was a bit distracting, and she found her attention slipping away from the mug of caf and toward his hand, braced against the back of her chair and close enough so that she could feel the heat from his skin.

"Ah, for Ord Mantell," he sighed. "Where Separatists were _bad_ and guns were _good_, and we could just run in shootin'." The twang of his accent became more pronounced with each word, and she had to smile at the wistful tone that came over his voice when he looked at the stars.

His hand was so close...if she turned her head, she'd be close enough to kiss his fingertips. Tannith was unable to stop herself from flirting. "I could be persuaded into a little drunken gunplay."

"I'm not _drunk_," Corso replied, chuckling. "Just tipsy."

He lifted his hand in an approximation of a blaster-grip and pretended to "fire" an invisible rifle into the air. "I could still bull's-eye an Imperial soldier at a thousand paces."

_No doubts, there, _she thought wryly. She'd seen him fight in far worse states and come out victorious, whooping and hollering the entire time.

"Why don't we have more _fun_ on this ship?" He was swaying a little more and a smile had come over his face, the kind someone got from remembering good times. "Back home, when we needed a laugh," he added, his voice earnest as he knelt again, draping both arms across the back of her chair and putting his face closer to hers. "We used to run the rontos in circles, then see if they could charge us without fallin' over."

He chuckled at the memory and she had to as well, though after a moment she stretched her arms, rose from her seat and set her cup of caf down so she could fully face Corso, who'd straightened as well. His eyes were locked onto each of her movements and she was suddenly very aware of how alone they were. Risha had all but locked herself in the engine room; the maintenance droid was shut down for the night. It was just her and Corso, and the stars.

Tannith knew that now, when he was in this state, was not the best time for a "let's start a fling" conversation, but kriffing hell...she wanted to kiss him. Much of _that night _on Taris was a blur, but she remembered the desire to have him touch her, to feel his hands on her body and his mouth on hers. The desire had not gone away – hell no, it hadn't. It'd only gotten stronger.

Maybe talking could wait until after they were both sweaty and naked.

She gave him one of her best smiles. "Got any suggestions that _don't_ involve farm animals?"

A flare of desire filled his eyes as he stepped forward, his hips swaying a little more than normal. The pitch of his voice dropped, roughened, and she shivered. "I've got a few," he murmured, close enough that she could smell the sweetness of liquor on his breath. "But...they might take a while to explain. Care to let me show you?"

"I've got a few ideas of my own I could show you." Though she tried to add a flirtatious edge to her words, her own arousal made her voice huskier than normal and the urge to just kiss him was beating away at her entire body.

So close. They were so close; they were a breath apart. Every nerve in her body was alight and aching for his touch. His hand lifted. His fingertips brushed the scar on her cheek, then twined in a strand of her hair. So close. A breath away. She could almost feel his mouth on hers and in that moment there was _nothing_ she wanted more.

But something changed within him. He stepped back, blinking as if emerging from a trance. "I'm sorry," he said, glancing away at the viewport. "I...ah...shouldn't have said that."

_Exactly; you should have just kissed me. _"Corso..."

His head shook quickly, like he was trying to shake off the liquor's effects, and he still wouldn't look at her. "It's not right, me propositioning you like some...Hutt's dancer. You deserve better."

Had her brain not been so muddled with desire, she would have laughed at the absurdity of what he'd just said; in her mind there was no one _better. _As it was she tried to think of something to say that would make him understand how she felt.

Words were so hard for her to come by, sometimes. How was it she was totally cool-headed when faced with a prig like Agent Soganti or a horde of Black Sun gangsters**, **but right now she could hardly string a sentence together?

Perhaps mistaking her silence for agreement, Corso exhaled and cast a look her way. "You deserve a man you can let your guard down with. Someone who'll take care of you for a change."

Some of her coherence came flooding back at this, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "The day I need someone to take care of me, I'm selling the ship and taking up knitting. And I fragging _hate_ knitting."

Corso met her eyes, and there was a kind of reverence in his voice even as he continued to sway gently in place. He was still drunk, but she could hear in each word that he believed – truly believed – everything he said. "Tan, you're the strongest woman I ever met. The strongest person...period.

"I'd fight for you, or with you, or at any command you give. I just think you deserve...more," he finished, taking another deep breath and looking down at his hands.

As he habit of doing, he knocked her speechless. It wasn't that she hadn't figured out he felt this way by now, but rather that he voiced his feelings with such assurance - like he wasn't afraid of how they'd be received. It didn't matter that he was drunk right now, she knew he meant what he said.

To tell her all this...he was brave, so much braver than she could ever be.

Silence filled the space between them until she finally collected herself enough to speak. "Doesn't it matter what I think?"

He glanced up, his forehead creasing. "'Course it does. But I'm...I mean _you_..." He made a noise of frustration and sighed again. "Listen to me, all slurry an' ramblin'. Maybe I _am_ drunk."

"You are, but it's okay." Because she couldn't stand not to touch him any longer, Tannith rested her palm on his cheek. His eyes locked onto hers. She could feel the faint outlines of his scars and the heat of his skin. "I don't know what I deserve, Corso. I don't know how a person can measure something like that; it's not for us to say, I guess. All I know is that I want-"

It was so hard to say it, but she forced the words out because it was important, because he needed to know and he'd already bared his heart to her. She wanted to show him that his efforts weren't wasted. His eyes were riveted on her eyes; his entire body was still, like he was strung tight as a bowstring.

She swallowed. "All I know is I want _you_."

Saying the words broke something open inside of her and she leaned forward, tilted her head up and brushed a kiss against his lips. It was a feather-touch, hardly anything, but it made her feel like _she _was the intoxicated one, drunk on his scent and his presence. It made her want _more. _

"I want you, Corso Riggs," she whispered against his skin.

Corso shuddered; again, his hand lifted to twine in her hair, and a quiet groan left his throat as he bent his head to kiss her. Though a little stronger than the one before, this one was still tentative, light. His lips were soft and pliable. He tasted like the most delicious liquor she'd ever had, and she shivered as he gave a gentle tug on her hair to pull her closer. Eager to welcome him, her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to sweep across her lower lip once...

...before he groaned again and pulled back, just enough so that she could still feel his breath, hot against her mouth.

"I want you, too," he murmured as his hand slid from her hair, down her cheek, then back to his side. "But...not when I'm...like this. Not when I can't hardly stand upright."

Heat flared in her cheeks. Mutual attraction or not, she felt foolish for coming onto him when his defenses were down; had he done the same to her, she'd be less-than-thrilled. "Right...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No...it's okay," he broke in, meeting her eyes. His hand reached for hers and squeezed once as if in reassurance. "I'm just tryin' to say that it needs to be _right_, between us. I _want_ it to be right."

"What do you mean?" They were consenting adults, willing and able. _Definitely able, _she thought, glancing down at his waist, below which she could see just how much he did want her. What more did they need?

He took another long, deep breath and stepped back, looking for all the world like he was trying to collect himself. "Tan, I want to _show _you what you do to me..."

The words trailed off and he made a noise of frustration. "Guess I'm drunk, after all. Everything I say sounds so...dumb." He winced and met her eyes. "Are you pissed? How bad did I mess this up?"

"Not even a little," she replied with a faint chuckle.

Nodding, he ran a hand through his hair. "So...we're good?"

"We're good, Corso. Better than good." Well, mostly. Touched as she was by his care, she was entirely too worked-up to return to the helm, let alone even _think_ about sleeping until after some quality time with her shower-nozzle.

But that probably wasn't something he needed to hear, given his current state of arousal.

She smiled at him, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek, forcing herself not to linger over the feel of his skin beneath her lips. "You should get some sleep. I have a feeling Nar Shaddaa is going to be more fun than Taris."

"You've got an interestin' idea of fun," he replied, grinning. They exchanged one last look before he offered her a faint salute that made her roll her eyes as he stepped through the threshold and out of the bridge. "'Night, Captain."

"'Night, Corso."

Tannith listened to his footsteps moving through the corridor, marveling at the way she could still taste his kiss and feel the imprint of his touch. The moment she could tell he'd reached his bunk, she glanced at the controls to make sure the autopilot was set, then hurried to her own quarters.

Yes, it was definitely time for a long, hot shower.

* * *

_A/N: So, just to reiterate, this vignette collection is most _definitely_ romantic in nature. Things will heat up a bit more, though when (not if :P) a vignette ever crosses the border between "romance" and "erotica," I'll keep the higher-rated stuff on my AO3 account. (There's a link on my author page.) And don't worry; I'll totally let you know. ;)_

_Thank you for reading!_

_Next time: Fighting on Nar Shaddaa, and a little something different. _


	16. Nar Shaddaa I: Harmony

**Nar Shaddaa I: Harmony**

Corso watches her fight and is enthralled.

Tannith moves like wind over a wheat field. Each motion is controlled and precise with the kind of grace that makes him feel like a stumbling ronto by contrast. His captain's fighting is calculated. She makes the plans of attack and he follows them. He's more of a run-in-shooting kind of guy, which he supposes makes them such a deadly team. He's the muscle; she's the intention.

But it's more than that for Corso. For Corso, she's the purpose. The reason.

Barely an afternoon on this moon and he's already up to his elbows in blaster-fire, but it's all in a day's work. They're facing off with some thugs deep in the Undercity of Nar Shaddaa. Down here the streets are dark, a stark contrast from the glitz and glamor of the upper levels, though blood still runs hot. Corso can hear Flashy's song, several meters away, and even as he decks a burly, Human thug, he relaxes at the knowledge that Tan's okay. As long as he hears Flashy, he knows she's still still shooting.

For a little bit, Corso gets lost in the fight. His blaster-rifle, Sergeant Boom-Boom, feels like an extension of his body. A group of thugs have him surrounded, but he's not afraid. He rarely feels afraid in the heat of battle, relying on instinct and experience and trusting the weapon in his hands. Streaks of plasma race towards him; he dodges the ones that his portable shield generator doesn't deflect. One of the thugs has a flame-thrower on his arm – it's kind of awesome, and as Corso knocks the man out with the butt of the good Sergeant, he thinks one day he might like one, too.

In the background, Flashy's song stops.

Corso doesn't think about the thugs before him; he turns to look for his captain and sees her on the ground, unmoving, a hulking Nikto stalking her. It's too dark down here for him to see if she's breathing but he can't let himself assume the worst because he has to keep a cool head to help her.

But she's not moving and he's suddenly cast back to that day, nearly five years ago, when he saw the same thing happen to his ma. When the Seps came and killed his entire family, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't save them. Sorrow, regret, anger...they wash over him, threatening to knock him to his knees.

Then rage takes over and bolsters him up.

It fills his vision with blinding white. His blood burns so hot he's cold, but he's not thinking of himself. All of his focus is on the slender, crimson-haired woman lying amidst the trash down in this stinking pit of a city and the asshole who put her there, the guy who's about to meet whatever he calls his god.

Fury spurs Corso's steps. He's hardly aware of the thugs he was fighting; he breaks free of them and hurls a flash-grenade in their midst – it'll keep them busy while he handles the Nikto. One, two, three strides brings him within shooting range. He aims and fires, easy as breathing. The Nikto turns, shock on his horned face as it is illuminated by the yellow streak of plasma landing between his eyes, then he falls to the ground and does not move.

Corso's world becomes silent, save for the huff of his breath and the rage pounding away in his ears as he races to her side and drops his rifle. For one second he can't tell if she's breathing and his heart stops, the whole world stops and he thinks, _please, no...I can't lose her, too_, then he marks the rise and fall of her chest, the flashing pulse at her neck, and her eyes flutter open to fall on his.

She lets out a string of swears that's the best sound he's ever heard. Relief fills him, pushes away the rage and sorrow, and he can breathe again. He hardly knows what he says to her, only that she claims she's fine, that the wind was just knocked out of her for a second. He's standing in an instant, offering her his hand and she takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Behind him, he can hear the thugs regrouping, sneering insults and challenges as they approach.

Corso looks at his captain and he knows she has a plan. She always does.

The expression on her face is one he knows well. It means, _are you ready?_

He takes a breath and nods.

The fighting starts again.

* * *

Tannith watches him fight and is enthralled.

Quite frankly, she has never known anyone like Corso, and if she weren't so concerned with keeping both of them alive, she thinks she could watch him forever. They are surrounded by death; she can smell blood and ozone from the bolts of plasma that are streaking across her vision, but he seems not to notice. He moves effortlessly, like he doesn't even have to think about the trajectory of his weapon's discharge or where his next step will land. In the darkness of Nar Shaddaa's Undercity, Corso is surrounded by thugs who are intent on killing him, and he faces them and their goal head-on, unafraid.

When Corso fights there is no fear in him, anywhere. There is only purpose, determination, and the whooping war-cries she's come to rely upon to know that he's alive and well.

His boundless enthusiasm gives her strength, helps her focus and allows her to move freely when and where she needs to in order to fulfill whatever goal they have in mind. It's a good system they've developed; Corso draws the attention of their enemies and keeps them busy while she does what needs to be done, or simply remains on the sidelines, picking off snipers or other fringe fighters, like that Nikto off to the side. They make a good team, her and Corso, though she knows he's the more natural warrior.

For all its effortlessness, she can see that Corso's fighting is not without emotion. Passion fuels his movements, lends strength to each blow and precision to his already-unparalleled aim. Were he a Jedi, he would have been warned away from such emotion because passion is considered a step on the path to the Dark Side.

But there is no darkness in Corso Riggs. There is only light and laughter, and the endless corny names for his weapons. Even his anger comes from a place of goodness, and she is grateful every day for his presence at her side.

All of these thoughts are fleeting as Tannith ducks behind an abandoned speeder, heart thrumming as she calculates how many thermal dets she has left and how far she can throw. Footsteps, heavy and crunching over broken glass, alert her to the presence of another and all of her focus zeroes in on the sound. She rises from her crouch just in time to see a burly Nikto approaching, raising his left arm. The flash-grenade descends.

Tannith's world explodes in crystalline light right before she's knocked ass-over-teakettle. The back of her head smacks into the duracrete with enough force to jar her eyeballs in their sockets, and she know she's going to have a headache to end all headaches when she gets up again.

If she gets up again.

The Nikto is pissed. Probably because of the holes she tried to put in his kneecaps, and she idly wishes her aim was better so she'd have finished him off right away. Obviously she needs to work on that. He looms over her like a mountain, like an avalanche, and she'd move if she could, roll away or kick him in the groin or something, but she can't move, can't breath, can't think anything other than, _oh kriff..._

Then there is sunlight, completely out-of-place down here. Vibrant yellow-gold washes over the Nikto's face and he crumples. Tannith's eyes close in relief; she knows Sergeant Boom-Boom's work when she sees it. Corso. She knows he's not far behind and struggles to take a real breath because he'll be worried.

Something touches her cheek and she knows he's at her side again. She struggles harder to take a kriffing breath because he must be worried to have broken away from his task, broken their rhythm, to come check on her. _Don't worry about me, _she wants to say, but her voice isn't working properly yet.

Finally her eyes open and fall on his face, which is now wide-open with fear. He's filthy; he's covered in soot and carbon and Nikto blood, but the instant he sees she's awake he smiles. Tannith can't feel the Force – not very well, anyway – but she can taste his relief like the sweetest wine.

After helping her to her feet, he asks if she's okay. Coughing, she assures him she's fine. Never better, really. Behind him, she can see the thugs regrouping, readying for another assault, and her brain pushes forward to the next few minutes, working over angles and deciding that yes, she does have enough thermal dets to put a hurt on these barves.

Tannith looks at Corso and sees that he's ready for whatever she has in store for them. He always is.

The expression on his face is one she knows well. It means, _I'm with you._

She takes a breath and nods.

The fighting starts again.

* * *

_A/N: I'm a little unclear on the exact timeline of Corso's history. It seems there's some contradictory information in-game. Anyway, I figured he went away to the Peace Brigade when he was fourteen and returned home after a few years, and then shortly after that the Seps came. In my mind, he's about 22 – 23 when we meet him in-game. _

_I don't normally write present-tense, but wanted to try something a bit different here. :)_

_Thanks for reading! _

_Next time: Old wounds and the stories behind them._


	17. Nar Shaddaa II: Scars

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Nar Shaddaa portion of the smuggler storyline._

_Also, the song for this chapter is soooo beautiful. Highly, **highly** recommended. :)_

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa II: Scars**

_A long time ago, I left my home;_

_Just a boy passing twenty._

_Could you spare a coin and a Christian prayer?_

_For my luck has turned against me._

_~ "_One More Dollar,"_ performed by the Wailin' Jennys; lyrics by Gillian Welch._

_Undercity_

_Spyglass Cantina _

"So tell me, Red...how did you get that sexy scar?"

As she leaned against the bar, Tannith toyed with the bottom of her drink and smiled at the Mirialan man beside her. "Do you want the good story, or the real one?"

"Both, if you have time, but I'd prefer the real one." Ahern smiled back. His teeth were very white, a marked contrast to his dusky, olive skin, and his eyes were brilliant blue.

The din from the crowd was loud, but not so much that he had to lean _quite_ that close to hear her, but she kept smiling. Ahern Zey was the owner of the largest freelance garbage-collection company in the Undercity, and by all accounts a veritable font of useful information, especially to someone looking for anyone who needed to dispose of large amounts of animal-waste on a regular basis.

Tannith was convinced that Risha had jinxed them, as what should have been a simple delivery of a male shanjaru to Drooga the Hutt had turned into a huge ordeal when the Hutt revealed that his other shanjaru, a female, had been stolen and was now somewhere in Shadow Town, in the custody of a crazy geneticist named Lazhae.

If Tannith wanted to be paid, she had to track down the female and bring the creature safely back to Drooga, so the Hutt would have his "matching pair." Subsequently, she and Corso had spent several days investigating Nar Shaddaa's undercity, until they'd been pointed here, Spyglass Cantina, where Ahern was said to be the best chance of learning where Lazhae was holed up. After a nice conversation and some heavy flirting, she'd managed to get not only a location for Lazhae out of the Mirialan, but Ahern had agreed to help ease her passage to the geneticist's lab.

Mission accomplished. It was time to start making a graceful exit.

Smiling, she sipped her drink, a delicious Corellian sangria that she'd have to be careful with, lest she get too tipsy. "Well, the _good_ story is pretty exciting. I was hauling some...we'll just say 'delicate cargo' to a prominent senator – who wanted the transaction to be as discreet as possible-"

She paused to arch her brow and give Ahern a knowing look, partly to flirt and partly to show that she understood his line of work because she was in a similar one. It was a look that was designed to endear her to him, and she thought it worked because he grinned and nodded, so she continued.

"Anyway, the only time the senator could meet me was during this huge, fancy party his wife was throwing; he couldn't get away for more than a few minutes, so we met outside the ballroom where the party was taking place."

Tannith sipped her drink again, noting how Ahern's eyes were locked on her mouth. "It was supposed to be quick and easy," she added. "But you know how these things go."

Ahern grinned and took a drink from his glass of ale. "Don't I ever? Let me guess...the wife found you two together, and thought the worst?"

"Close...his mistress found us first," Tannith replied, chuckling. "_Then_ his wife." She tapped her scar. "Turned out his wife was some kind of vibroblade aficionado, and gave me this to remind me not to dally with married men."

"Yikes," he said with a lift of his dark brows. "I'm glad you escaped with just the single scar."

She shrugged. "It sounds worse than it was – I admit, I wasn't too thrilled at the time, but now it's kind of funny. And," she added with another sip. "You should have heard all the screeching."

"The wife or the mistress?"

"The senator."

Ahern's laugh was bright, and Tannith found herself smiling in earnest. This part of her job wasn't so bad when the company was pleasant, and Ahern was actually a pretty decent guy: intelligent with a good sense of humor, and easy on the eyes to boot. Had things been different, she might have actually been interested in furthering their relationship.

"That's a great story," the Mirialan said at last, winking at her. "But I still want the real one."

Tannith gave her best mysterious smile. "The real one isn't for polite company."

"Who said I was polite?" His tone was easy as he slid his hand along the bar to clasp her fingers once, squeezing gently.

Even as she smiled at him, Tannith couldn't think of Ahern with anything other than mild interest, because most of her awareness was fixed on Corso, a few seats away at the bar. Ostensibly, he was drowning his sorrows in Dolormari whiskey while he really kept an eye out for any trouble, thus allowing her to concentrate on gathering information.

Corso's eyes were boring into the polished woodgrain of the bar and he'd only moved enough to take a swig of his drink every so often. Every muscle in his body appeared to be tense and his expression was grim; he certainly _looked _like he was trying to drown his sorrows, and she was starting to worry about him.

They'd been on Nar Shaddaa a little over two weeks, but in the last few days Corso's mood had darkened more and more. He never spoke unkindly, but she'd heard a bitter edge to his voice more and more lately – when he actually talked. Overall, he'd become quieter and sullen, completely out-of-character for him, but they'd been pushed so hard since arriving on the moon she hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it.

Now, she saw his head incline slightly, so he could see that Ahern was holding her hand, and she watched as he scowled and looked back at his drink. Inwardly, she sighed. They'd been over this; flirting was a game, a way to get information. A little light flirtation was harmless, and would help them learn what they needed to with minimum amount of legwork. It didn't mean anything.

Besides, it wasn't like she and Corso were even seeing each other officially. Ever since that night on her ship right before landing on Nar Shaddaa, they'd been running full-tilt, with hardly enough time to take a breath, let alone-

"You okay, Red?" The touch of Ahern's hand on hers pulled her attention away from Corso, and she offered him an apologetic smile.

"This is delicious," she said as she sipped her drink again. "A little too delicious, I think. My head's going all fuzzy...it's a sign I'm ready for bed."

Still holding her hand, Ahern smoothed his thumb across her knuckles. "Do you need any help getting to where you're staying?"

It was a polite but intentioned offer, and she gave Ahern points for tact. "No, thank you," she said as she stood from her stool, watching as he did the same. "But I'll let you escort me to the taxi if it will make you feel better."

"A generous offer from a beautiful woman," Ahern laughed. "I'm a lucky man, tonight." She allowed him to take her elbow to guide her and they stepped out of the cantina together; she noted that Corso slipped away as well, and knew he'd meet her as soon as the Mirialan was gone.

Once they were outside, Ahern gave her another of his dazzling smiles. "It was lovely to meet you, Tannith. I look forward to working with you, and I hope we can repeat the experience on your next visit." He leaned forward to drop a soft kiss against her cheek. "Maybe you can tell me the real story about that scar."

"It's a date," she replied, squeezing his hand before she stepped to the air-taxi. "Thanks again for your help."

"Anytime."

She settled into her seat, then gave the droid-pilot instructions to go around the corner, where Corso would be waiting. Nar Shaddaa was climate-controlled, so the air temperature was comfortable, but she still felt a little chilly in her sleeveless shirt and short skirt, and she rubbed at her arms while the taxi maneuvered. When the taxi stopped again, she watched as Corso slid beside her into the seat, crossing his arms before his chest with a stony expression on his face.

"You get what you needed?" His voice was flat.

Tannith rubbed her arms again as the taxi started to move. "And then some. It might take a bit longer than we planned, but it'll be less trouble than fighting our way in. We should be able to get to Lazhae, no problem."

Corso nodded once and looked away from her, towards the glittering city spread out below them. "Good. I'm 'bout ready to be off this moon."

It was about a twenty-minute ride to Deucalon Spaceport, where her ship was docked, so she figured now was as good a time as any to try and clear the air. "Look, Corso...I know you don't like it when I flirt with other guys, but it's just to get information. It doesn't mean anything. And it was all innocent, anyway."

"I know. I'm not worried about that guy, Captain." His brow furrowed and he briefly glanced her way. "I mean...can't say I'm thrilled with him feelin' you up like that, but it's not...why I'm like this."

She frowned at the use of her title but let it go for now. "Then what's up? You've been acting...odd lately. Are you okay? Did I piss you off or something?"

"No, of course not," he replied, looking at her in earnest. The taxi passed beneath a particularly garish sign, illuminating everything enough for her to see the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I know I ain't been great company these past few days, but it won't last."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and shook his head slowly. "It's just...I've got a lot on my mind right now." There was a pause before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was quiet. "About this time five years ago, the seps came to my family's homestead on Ord Mantell."

Tannith's breath caught. "Oh, Corso..."

"I couldn't keep them safe," he murmured, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. "I fought – kriff, I fought as hard as I could – but there were too many, and we were overwhelmed." He tilted his head so that she could see his scars. "I caught some backlash from a thermal det when it hit the ronto barn – gave me these and knocked me out cold. When I woke up..."

His hands spread as if to indicate emptiness and Tannith felt her heart ache. Cold forgotten, she leaned closer to him and slid one arm around his shoulders, wrapping her other hand around his to offer physical reassurance. There was a moment where his body tensed, then he relaxed and squeezed her hand, leaning into her touch. This close to him, she was so very aware of his warm skin and the corded muscles of his shoulders and arms, but she tried to ignore the flare of heat and arousal she felt from his touch. Instead, she tried to focus on offering what comfort she could.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to look into his eyes, which had fallen on their joined hands. "But I know you did everything you could for them. I know you did your best."

Warm brown eyes met hers and he shrugged. She felt every muscle move; he looked so exposed without his armor, but he still seemed indomitable. Even now. "It wasn't enough."

She didn't know what to say, so she only squeezed his hand again. He sighed and glanced away once more, looking into the distance. "Sometimes I think about sending them a message to let them know how I'm doin', then I remember all over again."

Tannith felt like her heart was constricting in sympathy. No words she knew could ease what pain he felt, and she was completely at a loss. "Corso..."

"I'd give anything – _anything_ – to talk to my dad again, or hear my ma singing." There was a beat of silence before he grimaced and shook his head, glanced back her way. "Sorry, Tan. It's just tough right now. I'll be back to normal, soon. I don't mean to lay all of this on you."

"It's fine," she replied. "It's more than fine...that's what friends are for."

Even as the words left her mouth she winced. _Friends. _They weren't really friends...they were something more, if undefined right now. But she thought he'd take it wrong so she tried to clarify. "I mean...you're _more _than a friend, but I'm...you know...here for you."

A quiet chuckle left him as he glanced her way. "Thanks, Tan."

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, moving her arm from around his shoulder, though their hands remained joined. "My head's fuzzy. I think I had too much of that sangria, whatever it was called."

"That Ahern guy called it Vreni Sunset, I think," he replied. "Was it good? My whiskey was pretty decent."

"It was delicious. Strong, too."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments while the taxi buzzed softly through the night air. Tannith's head felt heavy and after a beat she rested her cheek on Corso's shoulder, watching the kaleidoscopic city flash by outside the open-top cab. The air still felt a little too cool on her skin, but Corso was warm, and she found herself instinctively pressing her body closer to his, trying to soak up some of his warmth. A pleasant, relaxing haze settled over her and she took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

Corso's next words pulled her from her trance. "What's the real story?"

"Hmm?"

"Your scar."

She sat up and regarded him. It was clear that he was still hurting, but she thought he was trying to move past the feeling and wondered if this was his way of asking for a distraction. It took her a second to work up her nerve, but finally she was able to speak.

"I did it to myself." She hesitated, because the story wasn't one she relished. "On purpose."

This made him sit up as well, his eyes rounding in surprise as they landed on her cheek. "You cut yourself up...on purpose? Why?"

Tannith frowned, trying to figure out how best to explain that particular life-decision without going into too much detail. She wasn't quite ready to let go of all of her secrets. "To make myself look...tough, I guess," she said at last. "Living on Corellia, I was very...sheltered, in a lot of ways – like I've mentioned. When I started running cargo, I realized that no one would take me seriously unless I did something drastic to _show _that I was tough, that I'd been around."

As she spoke, her fingertips crept to her cheek; she could still feel the vibroblade's edge, still see her own face in the 'fresher mirror, tight with fear and pain. "I could shoot and fight, but people took one look at the skinny little red-haired girl from Corellia and decided they could take advantage of me – and it worked, a few times. Finally I got fed up and decided to do _something _about it."

"So you sliced your own face?" His voice was incredulous, though after a beat he exhaled and shook his head. "I mean...wow..."

"Pretty stupid, isn't it?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "It's stupid, I know. I was stupid back then. I thought I knew everything about the galaxy, and I'd hardly seen anything past Corel."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen." She remembered the humming sound of the vibro, the way it made her skin tingle almost pleasantly right before the blade's bite. "I wanted to make a new life for myself, a new identity. I thought this was the best way."

He shook his head again, and glanced her way. "Was your old life really that bad?"

No. No it wasn't. She'd had food, shelter, a family that cared for her and missed her. She'd had a path to follow. A lot of people had a lot, lot less.

But she'd felt trapped. Caged, like some wild thing pressing herself against the bars and trying to shove her way free, little by little, inch by painful inch. The life of a Jedi was a good life, it just wasn't the life she'd wanted.

"It was for me."

Her voice was firm and she prayed he wouldn't ask anything more. Even with him, right now it was almost more than she could stand to share this much of herself, and she knew there was no way she could elaborate.

Although she hated herself a little for the feeling she couldn't prevent it. There was a part of her that always must be kept hidden. Her secrets were hurtful; her secrets caused her pain and those who cared about her pain, but she couldn't stop herself from acting on them. She'd hated living as a Jedi, but when she'd finally given in and told her parents, they'd rejected her, told her what she wanted didn't matter, that it was her duty to stay, to be a Jedi.

So she'd left, and learned to keep her true self hidden. It was safer. It was easier.

The taxi tilted as it moved towards a tunnel, and she found herself sliding into Corso a little more; she was reminded of Coruscant, and the sight of him falling over the side of an air-taxi on that world, and found herself reaching to cover their joined hands with her free one.

"It's not a very good story," she said. "Hopefully you can see why I don't tell it, often."

He squeezed her hand. "Thanks for tellin' me."

"I hope you don't think any less of me," she added, nudging his knee with hers. "Being such a fraud and all."

Her voice was carefully light in hopes of concealing just how deep this particular scar ran. A coil of nervous energy had begun to flutter in her belly, a feeling that usually encouraged her to change the subject, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to do so when he'd asked her flat-out to share this part of herself.

Tannith found herself holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

"You're no fraud," he replied with furrowed brows. "Maybe you made a not-so-smart choice as a kid, but you're still a good person. 'Sides," he added with a sideways smile her way. "I know what it's like to want to be _anywhere but here. _It's why I left Ord in the first place."

He sighed and added: "I don't know much, but I do know the past don't matter as much as the present, or the future."

A small whoosh of air left her as she expelled the breath, and she smiled at him, hugely relieved for some reason. It was okay, with Corso. Everything was okay with him even when she didn't understand just why. "You really believe that?"

This, for whatever reason, made him laugh outright. It was a wonderful laugh, a chortle, really. Throaty and full, deep in a way that made her fingertips ache with the desire to touch him again, even though their hands were still joined. She noted that some of the sorrow had left his face, though not all, and a multitude of ideas on how to fully erase the feeling crossed her mind, for all that she kept quiet.

"Of course I believe it," he replied at last, shaking his head at her and smiling his broad, beautiful smile. "I hafta wonder though, if you'd've told me if you weren't a little tipsy, or if you weren't feelin' sorry for me."

Tannith couldn't help her impish streak. Her legs crossed and she sat up a little primly in the seat as she slanted him with one of her more coy smiles. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

She was pleased – beyond pleased – when his eyes flickered to the healthy expanse of bare skin, and the resulting flush in his neck was worth the prickles of gooseflesh on her thighs. When his gaze fell on hers, though, heat flared within her body and she felt her heartbeat kick up a notch at the look in his eyes.

Nearly all of the sorrow had fled, now, replaced with what she knew was _desire_. In his way, though, he didn't push her for anything, simply made sure she knew what he was offering with a few small words.

"Are you cold?" His arm lifted to drape across the back of the taxi-seat, a silent invitation.

The taxi tilted again and the wind from its passage skated across her skin, making her regret wearing this outfit even as she was pleased of the excuse it offered to sit close beside Corso. She nodded, and after a beat she settled in beside him again, pressing her body close to his and sighing when his hand slid down to cover her shoulder.

Delicious heat curled around her, drawing her into a hazy fuzz of relaxation as she leaned into the nook of his shoulder. Warm. He was so warm; he was practically a ray of sunlight. She had no idea how he managed and wanted to ask, but didn't want to spoil the moment by talking about her stupid feelings. Ahern was a distant memory lost in the back of her consciousness, and she was glad of it.

They rode like this for some time – Tannith lost track of the minutes. Nar Shaddaa passed in a haze of color and light, and she let her eyes drift close as Corso's warmth spread through her body. Her thoughts drifted, too, down the threads of the past, distant and recent. She remembered sitting much like this, on the journey from Ord Mantell to Coruscant, and how she'd been reluctant to trust Corso, then. It seemed like a long time ago now, though it was only about three or four months. Time had a way of slipping by, unnoticed.

His palm had been resting on her bare shoulder and sometime during their flight he'd begun tracing an invisible pattern into her skin, and she couldn't help but shiver beneath the gentle touch. "Corso?"

"Hmm?"

She breathed in and caught his scent, blaster-cleaner and whiskey and the faintest trace of the sandalwood soap he used on his dreadlocks. "What happened to your family...it wasn't your fault. I know you did everything you could to keep them safe."

Corso's hand stilled. His reply was heavy and barely discernible beneath the hum of the taxi. "Thanks. I just hope one day I'll know it, too."

"You will."

Neither spoke for a few minutes after that, until he murmured in her ear, so quietly she almost wasn't sure it was meant to be heard. "Thank you."

She shivered again, but it wasn't from the wind chill. "For...?"

There it was again: a kiss against her forehead. Unlike Taris this one was unbidden, but like the other it was wholly welcome. Again, it drew her in closer and made her entire being ache for _more, _and she realized how foolish she'd been to think she would ever be satisfied with only a little bit of this man.

"For this," he murmured. "For right now."

If he'd been Ahern, if he'd been any other man, she would have replied with a coy, _there's more where this came from, _and kissed him_. _But Corso wasn't Ahern; he was unlike anyone she'd ever met, and all she could do was press her cheek to his chest and breathe in his scent again. It was enough right now.

Corso's hand tightened on her bare shoulder and she felt his chest lift in a deep sigh, and they flew on and on, into the kaleidoscope night.

* * *

_A/N: The mention of sandalwood is owed entirely to the lovely and talented _**clicketykeys**_, who said that she thought Corso would smell like that a little...I think she's right! _

_Spyglass Cantina and Ahern Zey are not canon. _

_Thank you for reading. _

_Next time: Sparkles! :D_


	18. Nar Shaddaa III: Sparkles

_Once again, I don't own any recognizable dialog. ;)_

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa III: Sparkles**

_Aboard the _Lucky Strike

A part of Corso was always aware of how long his captain was away from him. He couldn't help it; though he knew she could look after herself, even in Nar Shaddaa's Undercity, he just felt better when she was at least within eyesight.

"Corso!" she called out as he heard the hatch-door close. "We're back."

Their business with Drooga the Hutt was about over. Tomorrow, he and Tan were supposed to meet up with that Mirialan fellow she'd made contact with, and head to Shadow Town to find Lazhae and (hopefully) Drooga's missing shanjaru. Tan and Risha had made a supply-run, while he remained with the ship, keeping an eye on everything while he gave his blaster-rifle a good cleaning – and no, it wasn't a metaphor.

Cleaning his weapon was relaxing, and allowed his hands to keep busy while his mind worked over something that had been niggling at him for a while, though he'd only recently figured out how best to handle it.

There was the sound of talking, then arguing, as the captain and Risha seemed to disagree on something, then he heard footsteps approaching his bunk. Tannith's head popped in the open doorway, making him look up. "I stink, so I'm going to take a shower."

"Sure thing," he said with a chuckle, setting Sergeant Boom-Boom on his bunk and getting to his feet. "Did you get everything we needed?"

"Pretty much." She sighed and stepped in the room, her voice dropping in pitch when she spoke again. "No matter what Risha says – or thinks – _you're_ in charge of the ship if I'm not around. That includes when I'm in the shower."

Corso gave her a sharp salute. "Aye aye, Cap'n."

She rolled her eyes and slipped out, making her way down the corridor to her own quarters and her private 'fresher. Being the captain had its advantages.

When he was certain she wouldn't return, he glanced back at his bunk. Sergeant Boom-Boom was about as clean as he was going to get, so Corso withdrew another padded weapon case beneath his bunk. He flipped the lid open and ran his eyes across the pistol within before lifting it to test its weight one last time. _Perfect. Not too heavy, not too light; small hilt, streamlined, powerful. _Yes, she would do well for Tan.

He'd wanted to give this to her for a while, but hadn't yet found the right moment. Since they were going into one of the more dangerous parts of Nar Shaddaa tomorrow, he figured now was probably the best time for her to have a second decent blaster at her side to help keep her safe when he couldn't be there. Flashy was solid and reliable, but Sparkles was a work of art.

He knew Tannith's habits, so he busied himself for the next half-hour to give her a chance to shower and change. Once he caught the scent of caf wafting from the galley, he figured it was time, so he tucked Sparkles in his holster and made his way to the bridge.

Since she'd just taken a shower, he'd expected to find her seated at the helm, enjoying a cup of caf while she relaxed in the captain's chair, as was her custom, but instead she was on her back beneath the astro-nav station. Her boots were braced against the floor as she worked, her cup of caf rested beside her on the floor, and he could hear the sounds of clinking tools and mild swearing.

At first the sight made him smile, though he couldn't help but feel a flash of sympathy for her; she would work herself into nothing if she kept up this pace, but she didn't have to. He was here to help. He _wanted_ to help.

So he wouldn't startle her when she was so intent on her work, Corso made his steps a bit louder than normal as he came to stand by her. "Captain...I hate to bother you, but do you have a second?"

"Sure, hang on." She wiggled her hips and slid out from beneath the nav station. When she sat up, she reached for her caf cup to take a sip, then got to her feet, waving off his offer of assistance. "What's up?"

_Okay, you can do this. _He'd thought this through at least a dozen times, and was pretty sure he'd worked out a decent script. Corso took a breath, then leaned against the bulkhead in what he knew was a casual stance because he'd checked in the 'fresher mirror to make sure.

"Work, work, work. There's better ways for a beautiful woman to spend her time." He spread his hands in a gesture that was – according to the HoloNet – meant to show a lady that he was being open and honest with her. "Why don't you let me take you off of this ship and show you some fun?"

Her lips quirked as she swept her eyes over him. "Got something in mind?"

Now he leaned away from the bulkhead and took a step towards her. "I figure you, me, a bottle of Corellian Red...I'm sure we could find a cantina with a back room and..."

He'd practiced this line, too, though it wasn't coming out nearly as smooth as he'd planned. All at once the entire script sounded beyond stupid, and he realized how foolish he must have looked. _Kriff. _

Feeling stupid and entirely out of his depth, Corso made a noise of frustration. "I can't do this." At her look of confusion he shrugged and gave a shake of his head. "Thought I'd try to be suave, like those guys who hit you up everywhere we land. But you get that every day."

Tan swept a hand through her crimson hair, still-damp from her shower; as she did so, she worked loose trace amounts of dust from her foray beneath the nav station, making them drift to the floor. "Corso...it's not like that, with those other guys. We've been over this."

"I know," he replied, frowning as he tried to figure out how to explain this to her without sounding like stupid and old-fashioned. "That's what I'm tryin' to say. And those guys...they're not _real, _Tan. What they say to you – all that flirty stuff about you being beautiful and charming – it isn't real. They don't mean it."

Her brow lifted and he realized his error. "I mean...it's _true, _you are beautiful and-"

"Corso, it's okay," she broke in, smiling even as she cast her eyes upward. "I know what you meant."

When he got flustered, he had a tendency to ramble, but because there was no annoyance in her tone, only curiosity and amusement, he decided to push on. "You deserve better than those guys. You deserve someone who'll treat you like a lady."

"Someone like you?" Her reply was edged with flirtation, as was the wink she gave him over the rim of her mug as she sipped.

But he was past flirtation, right now. This was too important to joke around, and Corso didn't know any way to be other than the way he was. "Tan, I'm yours if you'll have me," he said as he took a step towards her, noting how her eyes widened just a bit. "I don't know how to play those games or make you laugh like some guys. But I'll be here when all of them are gone."

The mug froze at her mouth as she stared at him, and for a second he was sure he'd crossed some boundary and karked the whole thing up royally. _Why does nothing every turn out like I plan? _

She hadn't said anything; hell, she'd hardly moved, so he took one last shot and prayed it would hit the mark. "I'm your man, Tannith. Any way you want me."

Her lips were slightly parted as she looked at him, and he knew her well-enough by now to recognize the expression on her face that she got when she was at a loss for words. A second later, though, she seemed to regroup; she smiled that flirting smile at him again and rested her hand on her hip.

"_Any_ way I want you?" she asked in a similar, sultry tone she'd used with Ahern and Darmas. "How do you feel about about zero-G?"

Corso was a hot-blooded guy and he couldn't deny the flash of arousal he felt from her words and the way her body was angled towards him, but he moved past the feeling. He'd come this far; he had to let her know how he felt. He didn't want to push too hard, but he had to let her know – she was too important to him to keep silent on the matter any longer.

He took a deep breath and reached for her free hand, lacing their fingers together. "I thought I wanted to be that guy, that fun fling, but I think we've got a chance for something more."

For a moment she looked down at his hand, then her eyes flickered to his. Within them was debate, and he felt his stomach sink. If she was debating something, it probably wasn't good. Chagrin filled him; had he misread her or simply pushed too far, too fast? It didn't feel fast; some days he felt like he'd known her forever even when there were still blank pieces of her past that hadn't been filled in.

"I thought...I could do it," she said at last, still looking into his eyes in that way that made his heart start to collapse in on itself. "I thought we could just have something light and fun, and have that be it. But I don't think that's going to happen."

She set the mug beside her chair, seeming to need a moment to collect herself. As much as he wanted her to just _say _whatever she was thinking, he knew it was best to give her time to get there. She would; she hadn't let him down yet. His heart had started racing, but he urged himself to appear calm as he squeezed her hand gently, offering silent encouragement.

At last she sighed again. "I think...I think I also want _more _than just a fling. From you. _With_ you."

Something inside of him uncoiled, like the spring of a heter-valve, and he was flooded with relief and joy so strong he was sure it was written on his face. It was all he could do to keep from swooping her into his arms and kissing the kriff out of her, but he managed to keep his voice steady. "You mean that, Tan? You really mean that?"

Tannith gave him a small smile, but it was the greatest thing he'd ever seen because it was just for him. "Yes, Corso."

"If you're in," he told her as he took her other hand. "I'm in too. All in. A hundred and ten percent."

Her smile widened. "I'm in. I don't really know what it means from now on, but I'm in."

"We'll figure it out as we go," he replied, grinning. "Take it one day at a time for now. Think that'll work?"

Something gleamed in her eyes, something delighted and totally sexy, and he knew he'd said the right thing, after all. "I think I can handle that."

Impossibly, Corso felt his grin widen.

Before he could sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless, she cleared her throat. "This feels...important, like we should celebrate or something. But I want to keep a clear head for tomorrow..."

Thankfully, he was ready for something like this. When it came to anything weapon-related, he was always prepared. "Well, I _do_ have something to give you." Her whole face lit up and he chuckled. "But first you need to close your eyes."

She slanted him a mock-suspicious look but didn't protest. As soon as her eyes closed, he reached for her hand, pulled Sparkles out of his holster and placed the pistol in her grip, wrapping her fingers around the hilt.

"I'd feel better about the strange blaster in my hand if I could see it...can I open my eyes yet?"

Corso chuckled again. "Yep, now."

Blue eyes opened and she gazed down at the pistol for a moment before lifting it up to examine it more thoroughly while he began to explain its merits. "This here's a WESTAR-eighteen bolt pistol. Antique. Custom-made dallorian alloy exterior."

Nodding, Tannith checked the safety, (it was off, but Corso was pleased she'd checked), then aimed the weapon as if about to fire it, testing the weight and balance, both of which he knew were perfect. Even in the low light of the bridge, Sparkles gleamed like a star, and he savored the sight of his captain holding the blaster he'd given her, wanting to sear the image into his memory.

After "drawing" the blaster a few times, she beamed at him, clearly delighted. Corso couldn't help but stand a little straighter; he'd put a lot of time and work into this pistol, and knew it was worth every effort. "I've been fixin' her up for years. She's polished 'til she shines, and has the firepower to. Knock. You. Flat. I call her Sparkles."

"It's a fitting name," she said with a laugh. "She's beautiful, Corso. Thank you."

Heat crept to his neck and he nodded. "I think you'd make a good pair."

"Threesome," she replied, eying him as she lifted Sparkles again and patted her hip, where her holster usually rested. "Don't forget Flashy."

"Never." He watched her for a few more minutes, then cleared his throat. "She'll do you well, Captain. She'll keep you safe when I can't."

At this, Tannith lowered the blaster. She looked at him, but her face had blanked and he couldn't read her expression. "Are you planning on going somewhere?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "No way. I just...I need to know that you'll be okay, if I'm not right there." Her brows knitted and he sighed in frustration. _Of course, I karked this up, after all. _"I need to know that you'll be safe, Tan."

Her lips pursed as she studied Sparkles again, then she set the blaster-pistol down on the pilot's chair and stepped over to him; she seemed to debate something, then rested her hands on his waist and looked at him like she was totally oblivious to the sudden, dramatic increase in his pulse. "Is everything okay? You don't usually talk like this."

As much as he was relishing her touch, Corso's throat felt tight, and even if he magically came up with the right words, he wasn't sure they'd come out. How could he explain it so she wouldn't think he was crazy?

Corso had let too many people down in his life and he was not willing to add Tannith's name to the list, so he forced himself to speak, even though he knew his words probably sounded dumb. "I know you can take care of yourself, but it can't hurt to have a good, reliable weapon at your side, if the guy in the armor isn't right there to take a hit for you. That's all I mean."

"So...you're just looking out for me," she said, tilting her head to study him. "Is that it? 'Cause for a second it sounded like you were about to leave..."

"Leave?" He noted the vulnerability in her expression and remembered the story she'd told him about her old flame, who'd up and left her one day. _Frak, I'm an idiot. _

Inhaling deeply, Corso brushed his thumb along the scar on her cheek, then leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, ensuring that she could see his eyes clearly. "I meant what I said before: I'm your man, Tannith. That's not gonna change unless you want it to. Okay?"

"Okay." A tentative smile crossed her face and she took a breath. "Thank you. I don't mean to be crazy, but I guess I can't help it."

"Not crazy," he told her. "Cautious. Everyone has a past that affects their present, I guess."

Kriff, that was true enough. He tried hard not to let his own past haunt him, but it still did; even now, he couldn't shake the feeling that if he couldn't _see _Tannith, he wouldn't be able to keep her safe.

But he knew that feeling was a by-product of fear, and not necessarily a reality, so he tried to ignore it and focus on what was directly in front of him, because _that _was what mattered the most.

Corso released her other hand, but it was only so he could embrace her fully; he tried not to think about how her body molded to his, or the delicious scent of her hair, but it was impossible to ignore, so he gave up, this one time. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you look holding Sparkles?"

"Well, I'd look even better holding Sparkles _and _Flashy..." He felt her chuckle reverberate through his body, and had to laugh as well.

Now _that _was an image that would keep him awake tonight.

Corso didn't mind one bit.

* * *

_A/N: Can't resist a bit of naughtiness at the end. ;)_

_So, the response to these vignettes has been overwhelming. I'm overjoyed that so many of you like these, and have taken the time to let me know just how much. Your encouragement, kind words, questions and comments mean the world to this solitary storyteller, and I don't know that I can ever thank y'all enough._

_Next time: The hard part's over. Time for some fun! _


	19. Nar Shaddaa IV: Celebration

_This chapter contains mild spoilers for the Nar Shaddaa portion of the smuggler storyline. Lyrics reprinted without permission._

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa IV: Celebration**

_Take me somewhere we can be alone._

_Make me somewhere I can call a home,_

_'Cause lately I've been losing all my own._

_~ "Home" by Zero 7, from _When It Falls.

_Aboard the _Lucky Strike

At last, it was over.

They had their fancy engine and a new crewmember to boot, and as Tannith watched Risha poke around the engine room, she felt like a massive weight had been lifted off her chest. Of course nothing on Nar Shaddaa had been easy, but she'd learned long ago that nothing ever was.

"Bowdaar's getting settled in the bunks," she said as Risha began to sort through the assortment of tools before her. "How long do you think this will take?"

Risha shrugged as she pulled out a hydrospanner and slipped it in the pocket of her work-clothes. "Not too long. I can have us ready to go in about five or six hours."

Tannith wrinkled her nose. "That'd put you working all night. It's already pretty late."

"I don't mind." Risha adjusted her coveralls, still managing to look immaculate even in the unflattering garment. "I know you're ready to be off of this world."

That was true, but there was another reason Tannith wanted to delay, though she wasn't quite sure how best to go about handling it. She glanced at the doorway, thinking. Bowdaar, the Wookiee they'd freed from slavery and brought onto the crew, was fast asleep in the lounge, (she'd have to see about getting a bunk large enough to accommodate his frame), and Corso had gone to the helm to check on everything.

He'd grown rather attached to the _Strike_, and more often than not found his way to the bridge; she'd resolved to teach him a little more about piloting the vessel and had idly toyed with the idea of making him her second-in-command, for whatever that was worth. She had a real crew now, after all.

_That _was a strange thought, but she set it aside for now and leaned against the boxy casing that housed the thruster assembly,watching Risha sift through her tools. "No need to rush. I do want to leave, but there's no point in you overworking yourself tonight. I think we all deserve a break after this whole ordeal, anyway."

Risha's head lifted as she turned and met Tannith's eyes. Her own expression was speculative. "Perhaps. But I made my plans already..." A knowing look came over her face and she smirked. "Ah. In that case, maybe you and _Corso_ should take a break."

Heat crept to Tannith's cheeks as she gave her best casual shrug. "I might've possibly been thinking something along those lines. Maybe."

Risha made a _hmm_ of acknowledgment and turned her attention back to the assortment of tools. "Well, if you're looking for a fun place to go, I'd try the Garden. It's one of my favorites."

"How nice is it, exactly?" Tannith thought of Risha's normally pristine appearance, and figured any place she recommended would be pretty swanky. She wasn't sure where her swanky-dress even _was, _let alone some appropriate shoes.

"It's laid-back enough for you and Corso to feel comfortable, but nice enough so you won't have to worry about the 'freshers being filthy." Risha paused and arched an eyebrow at Tannith. "And I've got a few VIP passes, so you won't have to pay the cover - just drinks."

"Sounds perfect," Tannith replied quickly, though her face grew warm at the eagerness in her own voice. "I mean...thanks."

Risha chuckled. "Sure thing, Captain."

After Risha gave her the location, Tannith filed the name and address of the club away in her memory and slipped out of the engine-room, hurrying to the bridge. Though she knew he was trying, Corso had not quite returned to his "normal" self these past few weeks, and she'd had an urge to do something fun with him, something that would take his mind off of his own troubles, at least for a little while.

Admittedly, a large portion of that urge was centered on just being near him. After their conversation a few days ago, where they'd each admitted to wanting _more _than just a fling, she'd found herself wanting to be around Corso as much as possible. It wasn't the same sort of _want _that she'd felt with anyone else, even Jarrett, whom she'd thought she'd loved. Rather, it felt like a natural extension of the partnership they'd been building since meeting on Ord Mantell.

Of course, this was a bit different, mostly because now she really wanted to have sex with him. But that could come – _would_ come, Force-willing – soon._ One day at a time_, she reminded herself as she trotted up the stairs that led to the bridge.

He wasn't there; she found him in the crew-cabin, seated at the edge of his bunk and laying out his weapons as if preparing to clean each one. When she appeared at the doorway he looked up and gave her a warm look, but she kept her voice curt.

"We've got a special mission, Corso. I need you."

If he noticed her tone, he made no indication of it. "Sure, Captain. Where're we goin'?"

"We have to head to some fancy club," she replied, rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically, as if this was the very _last_ thing she wanted to do with her evening. "I need you showered and dressed in something nice in one hour."

He slanted her a half-smile. "I'm a guy. I only need about ten minutes."

"Well, _I _need an hour," she replied with a lifted brow.

His laugh was lighter than it'd been in some time, and she couldn't help her answering smile. "Alright, then. I'll see you in one hour, Captain."

She didn't say anything else, just turned on her heel and made a beeline for her quarters, hoping against hope she could find her swanky_-_dress...

* * *

_Approximately one hour later..._

Corso was nervous, and he wasn't quite sure why.

A glance down at his jacket, shirt and pants revealed – again – that they were clean and relatively wrinkle-free, and hopefully suitable for wherever the mission was taking himself and Tan. She'd been pretty vague about where they were going – and why – but that wasn't uncommon for her. Normally, he was content to follow her lead, but there was something different about this occasion that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He checked his chrono; the hour was up but there was no sign of her. There was a moment of debate before he made his way to her quarters, passing by the lounge where Bowdaar was still snoozing – _poor fella_ – until he reached the unassuming door to the captain's room. It was closed and he couldn't hear anything through it, so he reached for the lock-panel, thinking to activate the chime that would let her know someone was outside.

But his fingers never made contact with the panel. Instead, the door slid open and his breath caught.

Until now, he'd only ever seen Tan in her normal duds: pants, boots, shirt and jacket. All of it was pretty standard, not that he had much of an eye for ladies' clothes and had no clue if she wore things that were stylish or not; all he really knew was that her clothes looked good on her in a way that made him think very, very ungentlemanly thoughts.

All of which paled in comparison to those that erupted in his brain at the sight of his captain – Tannith – in a dress.

It was blue, sky-blue, with long sleeves that fluttered when she moved towards him. The hem was more modest than whatever she'd worn the night she'd met that Mirialan fellow, but he could still see a lot more of her than he was used to. A draping neckline revealed the hollow of her throat, and he had the sudden, nearly overwhelming urge to kiss the gentle dip of skin. When his eyes finally reached her face, he saw that she'd used some light make-up and worn her hair down so that it fell around her shoulders in faint waves.

"I'm not sure about the shoes," she said, pointing at her feet, which were strapped into a pair of black heels.

Corso blinked. It was taking him far, far longer to put words together than it should have. He met her eyes again and realized that she was nearly his height. Only after taking a deep breath was he able to speak. "Uh...I don't think anyone's gonna be lookin' at your feet, Captain."

Tan's nose wrinkled as she glanced down at her shoes. "It's not the how-I-look part so much as the walking-without-falling-on-my-ass part."

Words were still really hard for him to come by, so he offered her his elbow. "Maybe I can help with that," he managed after a moment.

She smiled and took his elbow, and his heartbeat kicked up about ten notches."You look fantastic," she said, eying him from head-to-toe. "I take it that you're ready?"

_I'll never be ready for what you do to me,_ he thought as he nodded. _All I can do is hang on for the ride._

* * *

They reached their destination, the Garden, within about twenty minutes. From the outside, Corso thought the club looked the same as many others he'd been to, though he was glad to note that most of the other patrons weren't dressed in anything too fancy, so he didn't feel like he stood out too much.

Tan, of course, turned heads as they stepped past the burly, Twi'lek bouncer and through the doorway, but he was accustomed to that and tried not to bristle. Men – and some women – looked at her a lot; it didn't mean anything other than they had good taste. If she'd returned the looks, he might have been more jealous, but it was clear that she was a woman on a mission and she hardly seemed to notice.

Still, he wasn't above briefly resting his hand on the small of her back to guide her as they made their way through the door.

He'd never been much for these places, but the Garden was actually pretty nice. Even from outside he could hear what sounded like a live band – a good one – and the interior was clean and well-kept. Once they got inside he could see how the place got its name.

There were generally no plants – anything alive and green – in the places they'd been on this moon so far, but here he could see potted trees scattered around the perimeter of the dance-floor. An assortment of climbing vines curled up rows of support pillars, and each table featured an array of fresh flowers, all of which he recognized as being types that could flourish in areas with little or no natural light. Along with the thumping music and the usual smells of cigarras, he could smell the scent of sweet, green growing things, and the aroma instantly set him more at ease.

Well, as far as clubs went, this one wasn't too bad. Once they were inside, he glanced her way. "So...what's our play?"

At his words, she flashed him a wide smile, the kind that lit him up from the inside and turned his stomach into knots.

"It's a simple mission, but an important one," she said as she indicated the bar, which was already pretty packed.

"Yeah?" Curious, Corso moved in first, asking a pair of Rodians to shift down a bit so he and Tan could get a place at the bar. "Important...how?"

She lifted her hand to get the Ithorian bartender's attention, and after ordering a bottle of Corellian red wine she gave Corso a smile that was – he thought – a little uncertain. "Because you need cheering up and I wanted to do something fun for you. With you."

He watched as her cheeks colored just a bit as she added: "It's not quite a cantina and I have no idea if there's a back room...but I thought it would still be nice."

At that moment, the bartender handed her an uncorked bottle and two glasses. As Tan set up their tab, Corso tried to stop reeling long enough to reply in a semi-coherent manner. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she'd take his clumsy attempt at flirtation and turn it into something...like this. For him. For _them_.

He glanced around again, seeing the club with new eyes. The winking, multicolored lights behind the band cast the room and everyone inside in brilliant shades of blue, purple, red and yellow. All of a sudden everything looked beautiful. Bright and beautiful and-

"Corso?"

He looked back at her and realized she still seemed nervous, like she wasn't sure how he'd take all of this. The idea was silly, almost, because how in the void could he _not _be happy right now? A huge smile crossed his face as he reached for the bottle while she held the glasses. "This is...I don't even know what to say, Captain."

She sighed and he winced. "Tan. Sorry. Thought we were on the clock, I guess."

"Forgiven." She winked at him. "I did kind of deliberately mislead you."

"No one's ever done anything like this for me before." Heat had flooded his body at her wink, but he needed to tell her this. "Thank you. I mean that. I only wish I could say it better."

Although she didn't reply, she gave him a pleased smile and they began to weave through the crowd, towards the tables scattered around the dance-floor, which he realized was suddenly large and inviting. Corso didn't think he was a great dancer, but he could handle himself. After they settled into an empty table for two, he cleared his throat.

"Do you dance?" he asked, reaching for the bottle and nodding to the dance-floor, smooth and gleaming in the faint lights of the club. Whatever the band was playing was pretty catchy, and his foot began tapping involuntarily.

"Not normally," she admitted, but before he had a chance to be disappointed she continued. "Only with the right partner and a good buzz. One I already have, and the other is well on the way."

He grinned when she gave him a knowing look as he poured a measure of the deep burgundy wine into her glass, then his own. The drink reminded him – intentionally on her part, he thought – of his "Corellian red" comment a while ago, and he thought he'd be more than happy to indulge tonight.

When he finished she lifted her glass and he did the same. They clinked together and she smiled at him again; the band had finished their song, so there was a break in the music that allowed him to hear her speak. "To another successful venture."

"Here's hoping for many more," he added before taking a sip. Wine wasn't normally his thing but this was pretty good; sweet and not too dry, with a hint of some fruit he couldn't quite place. He had a feeling that Corellian wine like this was strong and tasty enough that he had to be careful with it. Corellians knew better than most how to knock someone on their ass, in more ways than one.

After she set her glass down she examined the bottle, running her fingertips along the label, her gaze a little distant. It was a fleeting expression, though, because she looked up at him a second later and smiled, right as the music kicked up again. "I think I might risk a dance now, if you're ready."

_Always, with you. Just say the word_. He was on his feet in a moment, offering her his hand. "Full speed ahead."

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter will conclude the rest of their "date," and be rated "M" to boot. (Spoiler alert: the rating is for language, not for content. The erotica I've written for these two will go up on my AO3 account, and I'll let you know when.)_

_Thank you for reading! :D_

_Also, there's some news-ish stuff on my profile, if you wander that way. :)_


	20. Nar Shaddaa V: Rhythm

_FYI, this chapter warrants an "M" rating for some NSFW language sprinkled in. It's also [cough] a leeetle steamier than the others, so fair warning.  
_

_The soundtrack for this chapter can be found at soundcloud-dot-com (slash) mitis (slash) love-letters-mitis-remix_

_Alternately, you can do a YouTube search for "Mitis Love Letters Chilled Overnight Remix," and it should pop up. :)_

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa V: Rhythm**

_Some time later..._

Corso had no idea how much time passed, only that it did.

All he really cared about tonight was the woman in his arms: the bright sound of her laughter as it merged with the music; the way the lights of the club made her eyes sparkle and her skin look so, so soft; the feel of her body beneath his hands as they moved together. Some distant part of his mind registered that they'd finished that first bottle of wine and started another, thanks to an obliging server weaving through the dance-floor, but he wasn't listening to his brain much right now.

The music pulsed around them, lights flashing in time with the beat, loud enough to drown out most attempts at conversation and cause the bass to resonate in his chest like an echo of his own heartbeat. Neither of them were skilled in current dance trends, but after a few stumbling attempts they found a rhythm that suited each of them and didn't make them look too spastic to the other club-goers.

After he and Tan had figured out how to dance together, he'd stopped thinking about where and how his feet were moving and just relaxed into the music. Another few glasses of wine later, and he stopped caring what anyone else might've thought about them and just savored the feel of her in his arms while he watched her dance.

It was impossible not to, especially with the way she moved in _that dress_. His head was full of the music and a little fuzzy from the wine, but his eyes worked just fine. More than fine. He couldn't stop looking at her, nor did he want to.

This night would have been like a fantasy but for the fact that it was so much, much better than anything his imagination could have invented. She was so close in his arms and beneath his hands. He could feel heat radiating off her skin and smell her shampoo, and after a pretty upbeat song that had them both a bit breathless he watched a flush come over her cheeks and a faint sheen of sweat appear along her forehead.

A few songs ago he'd become very aware of the fact that there wasn't much more than a bit of fabric between them. Her interest in him was plain – she'd made a point of it several times before this – and Force, did he _want_ her. Corso had never wanted anyone this much. Yes, he felt that familiar deep-seated, testosterone-fueled drive to claim her for his own, but he also wanted to spend hours lingering over her, with a clear-enough head to demonstrate all the ways he wanted to take care of her, body and soul alike. Maybe not now, not when they were both tipsy, but...soon.

But for all that he tried to keep those thoughts at bay, they was growing harder and harder to ignore. He tried to ignore them, all while trying not to let other things grow hard too, but kriffing hell, that dress clung to her perfectly. The way her hips swayed beneath his hands, the curves of her breasts...they were designed, he was sure, to drive a man completely insane.

Right now, thoughts muddled and body strung tight with desire, he was willing, more than willing, to let them.

During a particularly energetic trill of music, she stumbled. Corso blamed her shoes. She'd have hit the floor if he hadn't been holding onto her; all of a sudden she was pressed against his chest, hands gripping his biceps, head tilted up and lips slightly parted as they stared at each other. His breath caught. _Kriff, _her entire body was flush against his. He could feel every inch of her...and he was pretty sure she could feel every inch of him too, given the way she was grinning.

"Thanks for the assist," she called over the music.

Words stuck in his throat and he figured if he gave them voice they would only come out as gibberish, so he only nodded. Just then, the song shifted to a quieter, less pounding register, and his ears buzzed a bit from the sudden change in volume. It was the same song, but a slower moment, meant – he thought – to allow the dancers to catch their breaths.

Then she slid her arms around his neck and he knew he was a goner. If he died right now, it'd be with a big, stupid grin on his face, but he didn't care. He'd die a happy, happy man.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, a teasing edge to her voice as they swayed in time to the music. As she spoke, she pressed her hips to his, gently, but the sensation made his head swim with _desire. _

"You have no idea." One of his hands was at her waist; he skimmed the other up the curve of her spine, also gently, but enough to make her shiver. There was an answering flare of heat in her eyes and he realized they'd crossed some boundary tonight. He hadn't meant to right now and wasn't sure if she had either, but here they were.

The music surrounded them, pulsing softly but steadily as it wrapped them in their own world, like they were the only people on this whole moon. Beneath his hands she was warm and soft and sweetly curving...

"Is that a yes?"

His vision had gone hazy; he blinked to refocus on her and nodded. "Yes, Tan. Better, an' then some."

He added a kiss against her forehead because...well, because he wanted to and thought she would like it. She did. Tan shivered again and pressed herself against him with intention, and his body responded eagerly and in such a way that made her grin.

But Corso was well past caring, now. His brain had taken the co-pilot's seat a while ago because his body was at the helm. His arm curved around her waist, holding her close while his hand threaded through her hair. They weren't dancing, but molding their bodies to one another and he wanted to lose himself within her, sink into her and never resurface. He wanted to taste her, to drown in her. He wanted to hear her cry his name, again and again-

"Corso."

A swell of music accompanied her voice as the song began to pick up the pace. His eyes opened – when had they closed? – and he watched rather than heard her mouth form the next words: _Kiss me. _

* * *

Tannith's body hummed with arousal. The combined assault of the music, the wine, and Corso's presence knocked her senseless, but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was just a breath away, and as she sank further and further into Corso's embrace, she thought if he didn't kiss her she would disintegrate.

She said his name and his eyes opened. Like her, he'd been drifting along with the music and the buzz of wine, so his expression was a little hazy at first. The music swelled and she didn't know if he would hear her, so she tried to speak clearly.

"Kiss me." Only with him could she be so direct without fear of rejection. Only with him could she expose her true heart safely. He'd shown her this was so every day, every second they spent together.

Corso didn't hesitate. He did not place a gentle kiss on her forehead as he'd done earlier. No, there was nothing gentle about the kiss he gave her, but that was okay because she didn't want _gentle_. She wanted hard, she wanted fast; she wanted him to engulf her, to swallow her whole, body and mind.

It was an open-mouthed kiss, stronger than any they'd shared but still – in his way – tender. Her mouth parted beneath his and she could taste wine on his tongue as he delved between her lips, like he was drinking her in. Corso's hand at her waist pulled her impossibly closer, while his other hand wound through her hair, cupped her jaw and guided her mouth.

The kiss deepened.

She was thankful to be secure in his arms because she was pretty sure if she'd been standing on her own, in these shoes with her head spinning from the wine, she would have fallen on her ass. As it was she could hardly breathe for his mouth on hers, for the taste of him, for the feel of him beneath her hands, which had somehow become tangled in his hair, too, her fingers resting on the leather band he used to keep his dreadlocks out of his eyes.

A quiet groan slipped out of his throat; she felt the vibration beneath her lips. It merged with the music and sent her blood racing through her veins like liquid fire. She pressed her body along his, completely, wanting only to feel him – _all _of him – against her. The heels may have made her a bit clumsy, but the added height was rather convenient.

Somewhere at the edges of her mind she was aware that they weren't alone on the dance-floor, that there were other people who probably didn't want to see her and Corso sucking face, but she didn't care.

All she cared about was embracing body and kissing her like their lives depended on it.

Eventually they parted, more to allow them to breathe than because either wanted to stop kissing. Tannith was practically gasping for air and she knew her face was flushed, but his was too. They shared a smile before she tilted her head up and brushed her lips against his ear, nipping just before she spoke.

"Do you want to get out of here?" The wine had muddled her words as well as her thoughts, but she hoped he understood.

She thought he did, because her touch sparked a noticeable reaction from his body, though he didn't answer right away. As the music picked up its throbbing pace again he pulled back a little and regarded her. His cheeks were still flushed and his pupils were huge and dark with desire, but he seemed to be thinking.

Before she could find it within her to be truly disappointed at the hesitation, he nodded. "Yeah. But..."

_No 'but' unless it's the kind attached to you. _Tannith took a breath, trying to collect herself and not become lost to him again. "But...?"

Corso skimmed a hand along her jaw, sending a thrill of pleasure through her body. "I want this, Tan, and I know you do, too."

"Hell yeah, I do."

He chuckled, but his eyes were serious. "Even if you can't stand upright?"

Only then did she realize how heavily she was leaning on him, enough so that the heels of her shoes barely skimmed the dance-floor. Her head was still swimming and as some of her desire ebbed she became more aware of her surroundings, enough to realize that the song had changed, the pace was different and the music wasn't quite as pulsing.

Tannith inhaled and concentrated on standing properly, gripping his forearms for support. "You may have a point."

"Don't get me wrong," he added with a half-smile. "I want to...be with you, but I want it to be right."

"You keep saying that," she teased, nudging him with her hips. "The buildup is killing me."

At this, he stopped moving and lifted both hands to cup her cheeks. "Believe me," he said with a brush of his mouth against hers. "Right now, there's nothin' else I want more than to see how many times I can make you holler my name."

Her mouth fell open in surprise even as a bolt of arousal shot straight through her body; the feeling was amplified when Corso pressed their foreheads together and held her eyes with his own. "But I know it can be better between us, and I want more for you. I want to show you what you do to me, and I can't do that if neither of us can walk in a straight line."

Coherence pretty much fled her brain as every nerve seemed to light up under his touch. Had someone tossed a grenade at her feet, she would have been unable to do anything but stand there, completely captivated by the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on her body.

Finally, she managed to say something. "Well, you can _talk_ just fine."

He chuckled and smoothed his hands down her arms. "Maybe, but walkin' ain't really in the cards right now. Why do you think we haven't moved from this spot?"

She was still reeling from his words, his kiss, the wine. The combined assault took her a moment to work through, and when she did she met his eyes again; within them was his familiar earnestness, though she noted a trace of misgiving, like he was worried he'd upset her.

But there was nothing to be upset about. Rather than fuck her while they were both drunk and likely wouldn't remember anything, he had enough self-control – and respect for her and their relationship – to slow things down. Tannith couldn't think of anyone she'd met, (herself included), who would have done such a thing.

_He's amazing. _It hardly sufficed, but it was the best her hazy brain could manage right now, so she smiled at him to let him know she wasn't upset. "Alright. No moving from this spot. Whatever should we do?"

Corso grinned and slid his hands to the small of her back as a new song started. "Just keep dancin' until we sober up, I guess. An' try not to fall."

She wrapped her arms around his waist - for balance, of course. His chest was warm and solid beneath her cheek, and when he laughed she felt the vibration through her entire body. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

_A/N: I debated for a long time, (far too long, probably), about whether or not they would just say "forget this waiting BS," and make a beeline for her quarters on the ship to get naked together. _

_But when it came down to writing the scene, that didn't feel right. I ultimately think that Corso is the kind of guy who needs to know his partner is in her "right mind" at this juncture, even though it's clear she wants him. (Drunken gunplay can always come later on, after they've been together for a bit. :P) I also – and this may just be my fangirlish-ness coming through – think he'd want everything to go a certain way, (he clearly has a plan in-game, with that bottle of Mantellian wine!), and wouldn't want their first time to be rushed or sloppy._

_Anyway, hopefully my reasoning is clear. Let me know what you think. :)_

_Thanks for reading! I always like to post something fun on my birthday, and have been saving this one for a bit.  
_

_Next time: The morning after._


	21. Nar Shaddaa VI: Past Imperfect

_All recognizable dialog has been reprinted without permission, and I don't own it! ;) _

* * *

**Nar Shaddaa VI: Past Imperfect**

_The next morning, aboard the _Lucky Strike...

When Corso woke up, the faint vibration beneath his body alerted him to the fact that he was on the ship and the softness under his cheek let him know he was reclining on his bunk.

Those were good things to know.

What wasn't so good was the fact that he couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten here. Well, that and the fact that it felt like a ronto was trying to stamp on his skull.

_Okay, that's the _last_ time I drink wine, _he thought with a groan, hoping that Bowdaar wasn't in the crew-cabin to see his sorry state. Corso rolled on his side and reached for a pillow, thinking to cover his eyes and try to fade into blessed unconsciousness for a little while longer, but when he reached, reached and kept reaching – like the bunk was much bigger than he remembered – he knew something was really _not_ _right_.

As he was trying to convince his eyes to crack open, he heard a feminine murmur and felt the bunk shift. The sound made his heart fall to his stomach, which was really bad because it was a rolling mess down there. When he did force his eyes to open, (after taking a second to be thankful of the dim light), he realized he wasn't in his bunk in the crew cabin.

He was in the captain's room.

And he wasn't alone.

Tannith was curled beside him, clutching one of her pillows to her cheek and still fast asleep. Even in the low light he could see that her makeup was smudged and her hair was tangled, but she was clothed. They both were, though he distinctly remembered wishing it was otherwise at more than one point last night.

Corso let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as more memories of the Garden started to trickle back: the sweet Corellian red wine that didn't taste _that_ strong; Tan dancing in his arms, her body moving against his; the pulsing music and flashing lights that disoriented his senses; more wine; Tannith stumbling, him catching her and seeing the heat in her eyes as she asked him to kiss her...

It had been a kiss that left him hard and aching and wanting _more, _but he remembered their decision not to take things any farther than a dance, and he thought they'd each stuck to the resolution, given their mutually clothed, if rumpled, state.

It was the right decision not to take that step last night, when they were both drunk and not in their right minds. "Drunken gunplay" was fun and all, but he wanted their first time to be memorable. He was sentimental that way.

He was also old-fashioned, so he'd been told by guys like Skavak on more than one occasion, just because he thought that there should be more than sex between a man and a woman he cared for. And he cared for Tannith, more so than he'd ever cared for any woman, even Mellie.

Corso frowned at the name and the accompanying memory. He hadn't thought about his ex-fianceé in a long time, and even now he felt a weal of regret at the notion of how he'd left the dark-haired girl from back home. _She was sweet and deserved better than what I gave her. _

But the past was past; he'd learned it was necessary to put it behind him so he could move on with his life, especially when he had a distinct feeling that his future was lying beside him, snoring softly into her pillow.

For a second he was torn between leaving and letting her wake up in peace – and hopefully saving her from any embarrassment – or staying here and enjoying her presence, which was almost enough to make him forget the ronto stomping on his brain. Then Tan gave another murmur and her face turned towards him though her eyes remained closed. Corso smiled.

Who the hell was he kidding? He knew, undoubtedly, that he'd always choose to stay by her side.

Although...

A glance at his chrono showed that it was still pretty early, so he slipped out of bed and padded his way to the door – barefoot – to make his way through the silent ship to the galley, where he set a nice big pot of caf to brew. He grabbed two bottles of water and enough painkillers from the medbay for both him and Tan before heading back to the captain's cabin.

She was as he'd left her, and before he slipped back into her bed, Corso took a moment to pull the sheet over her torso to give her a bit more cover. After downing some painkillers and chugging his water, he laid against the other pillow and closed his eyes, hoping to drift off in spite of the damn ronto barreling around his head.

But even as the ronto's antics subsided, sleep didn't come. Thoughts of the past and present fluttered through his mind, along with questions about the future. What he shared with Tannith was still new and unfamiliar in a lot of ways and he wasn't sure what the next step was supposed to be.

Eventually he slipped into that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. When he felt her moving again, he turned to see that she was watching him with those blue eyes of hers. For one moment he wondered if she'd be pissed that they'd slept together – well, not like _that, _but literally – then she yawned.

"Is that caf I smell?"

Stars, her voice was rough. Corso nodded and leaned over to bring up the second water bottle and the rest of the painkillers. "Here," he said, offering them to her as she sat up and wrapped the sheet around her torso. "These'll help in the meantime."

She thanked him and downed the meds and water, then smoothed out her hair and blinked around the cabin as if seeing it for the first time. "Did you...sleep here?"

"Far as I can tell," he replied, sitting cross-legged at the edge of her bed. "I don't think anything...uh..._happened_ though."

"I think you're right." She sipped her water and ran her eyes across him, seeming lost in thought. "I don't remember much from last night."

"That makes two of us." He thumbed towards the door. "The caf should be ready in a few minutes. I think I'm hungover enough to actually _want_ some of that Kor Vella stuff you love so much."

She chuckled and swallowed the last of the water. "It will help get you moving, though it won't do much for a headache. Thanks for playing medic, by the way."

He nodded. They sat quietly for a moment until he cleared his throat, causing her to look his way. "So you're...okay with me bein' here?"

"Of course I am," she replied. "I trust you, Corso. I know you wouldn't take advantage of me, and Force knows I haven't been exactly subtle about wanting to get you in bed. I mean..."

Her cheeks pinked and she trailed off, studying the empty bottle intently. Despite himself, Corso couldn't help but give a small smile at her words, though he schooled himself to appear calm. "The ship's quiet. Somehow, I think we're the first ones awake."

"Ugh. I feel like I could sleep for another week," she said, wincing. "Do you remember what time we got back?"

"Late." He frowned in thought. "Or early, dependin' on how you look at it."

Tannith smiled, but said nothing, and they sat without speaking for another minute or so while he considered how to say what he'd been thinking. It was no secret he sometimes had trouble finding the right words, so he'd found the best way to approach a situation was to just go for it.

Corso took a deep breath. "Tan, there's somethin' I want to run by you, if that's alright."

"Can it wait until I've had at least a tiny bit of caf?" She sounded a bit apprehensive.

"It won't take long," he said. "But if I don't say this now, I don't know when I'll get a chance."

"Okay." She rubbed sleep out of her eyes and regarded him expectantly.

He took one final second to collect his thoughts, (the rolling feeling had returned to his gut, but he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the hangover), before speaking. "I don't quite know how to do this with a lady like you, Tan." At her look of confusion he elaborated. "Court you, I mean."

Her eyes widened. "Court me...? Like...for marriage, one day?"

"No...sort of...you know, formally acknowledge our relationship," he said, sitting up and taking her hand in his own. "I don't know how it is on Corellia, but on Ord Mantell we had rules about this sort of thing. With my fianceé, I got permission from her father first, then had a few chaperoned dates between our families-"

Tan's hand tensed beneath his palm, and she shook her head rapidly, as if she was trying to clear it. "Wait...since _when_ do you have a fianceé?"

_Kriff. I probably shouldn't have mentioned Mellie right out of the hangar. _"It was a long time ago, after I got back from the Peace Brigade, but before the Seps came..."

He trailed off and Tan nodded, though he couldn't quite read her expression. "Anyway, Mellie was from a neighboring farm; her family and mine had been long-time friends, and it was always kinda assumed that she and I would get hitched one day."

"Assumed?"

Corso nodded. "It's just how things worked, back home. Mellie and I didn't have much say in it all, but at the time it wasn't such a bad thing. She was...nice," he added, speaking quickly as Tan's lips had pursed in what he hoped was just curiosity. "We were kids, you know? When you're seventeen, everything's intense. We...uh..."

Heat crept from his neck and into his cheeks, reaching all the way to his hairline. He hadn't really meant to go over _this _particular aspect of his past, but here he apparently was.

Tannith's tone was dry. "Screwed like Lepis."

"Something like that." He sighed. "Like I said, we had chaperoned dates, but we were both...resourceful. We found lots of opportunities to be together. Alone."

Tan looked at him for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Corso...I don't mind that aspect, but I am pretty curious about the whole '_fianceé_' part – specifically where she is _now_."

He wanted to tell her, but suddenly the words wouldn't come and he realized why he hadn't thought of Mellie in so long. Memories of the dark-haired girl were closely tied with memories of his home and family, all gone, and it was less painful not to dwell on them.

But the past had a way of rearing its head, especially when the future was in question. "I don't know where she is, now. I never saw her after my family died." Corso knew his voice had gone quiet, and he felt Tan squeeze his hand. "My whole world blew up and I just...ran."

"You left her?" Tannith sounded startled. "Corso...tell me you at least sent a note or something."

He shook his head and felt her hand lift from his. Neither spoke for a second before she exhaled; he glanced up to see that she was rubbing her forehead. "It's too early for this," she muttered, slipping off the bed and heading to the door. "And I need some fragging caffeine."

Corso's stomach sank. She was pissed; she was walking away. "Do you want me to leave?"

She paused with her hand on the door-panel, and gave him a startled look. "No...I just need some caf. I'll be right back."

Despite her words, he could read the tension in her body and knew she was upset. His better sense told him to let her go and give her space to think, but it was early and his brain wasn't working so well, and his instinct to fight for what he loved was too strong to ignore.

Corso got to his feet and stood before her. "I wish I'd let Mellie down more gently," he said earnestly. "But...what I felt for her wasn't even in the same galaxy as how I feel about you."

This was said as he met Tan's eyes again, and he noted that they briefly widened. "Not even close," he added. "I know it's different here, and I know we both want _more_, but this is the only way I know how to do this, and I want to do it right. Tannith Tainn, may I have permission to seek your hand?"

He held out his hand, palm up, fingers outstretched, a symbolic gesture that was as deeply ingrained in him as a love of open sky, and watched as she looked at it. For a long, long moment she simply stared, then she met his eyes.

"I don't like what you did, that you left this other girl like that," she said quietly, and his heart began to race. "Not that I wish you'd stayed with her, but it...it doesn't sit right with me."

"Me either." The ronto returned, only now it was stomping on his stomach instead of his brain.

Tan sighed, and he watched the edges of her mouth curl upward a tiny bit. "But a really amazing guy once told me the past doesn't matter as much as the present, or the future." She lifted her own hand and rested her fingers in his. "And it's not fair of me to judge you for something that happened so long ago. What matters is that you're a good man, Corso Riggs."

"Glad you think so," he replied, willing his heart to slow down. "So...?"

Tannith laced their fingers together. "We're a lot less...formal on Corellia. If 'courting' means roses, love letters, and sneaking kisses before we're supposed to, I'm all for it."

His breath caught. "So...that's a 'yes'?"

She rolled her eyes even as she moved closer, wrapping one hand around his waist while keeping the other joined with his. "Yes, it's a 'yes.'"

Relief swept through his entire body, quieting the ronto while somehow increasing the pace of his heart. "I'll work on the roses and the love letters." He brushed his lips against hers. "The rest I think we can manage..."

The kiss was brief; neither of them had apparently brushed their teeth last night before drunkenly stumbling into her bed. When they parted, she gave him a wry look before reaching for the door-panel again. "Okay, after this I _definitely _need some caf."

The door slid open. She stepped through, but paused at the other side of the threshold to look back his way. "Are you coming?"

Corso stepped forward to his customary place at her side. "Lead on."

* * *

_A/N: Hopefully this isn't too repetitive after the "Sparkles" conversation, but it seems like Corso (in-game) wants to sort of formalize the relationship, so I wanted to bring that in. My understanding of the whole courtship thing in this context is that it's more like a "we're officially dating" convo than a "we're engaged to be married" decision.  
_

_There's also the question of Corso's fianceé, which I think is an interesting development, (talk about a "record scratch" moment!) one that I will follow up with later on. For those of you not familiar with the game, the name "Mellie" is not canon; his __fianceé _is mentioned, but never named.

_I tried not to make this overly-angsty. :P Please let me know how I did! _

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next up: LOL'ing in the GFFA. (Not quite, but I couldn't resist the text-speak.)_


	22. Interlude in the Black IV: Communication

_Caution: silliness ahead. :P_

* * *

**Interlude in the Black IV: Communication**

_[Text transmission from BozenAntillesHavoc to LuckyStrike_13]_

_[Subject: Hello?]_

Tan, hope you're doing well. Things are exciting on my end, especially with the latest mission. Got a new member of the team, a former Imperial, if you can believe it. There's at least an eight-foot pole wedged up her ass, but she's a bang-up medic. Jorgan hates her, but that's no surprise. He hates everyone. I think it's a Cathar thing.

Hoped to hear from you after the "incident" on Taris, and didn't. No news is good news? At least your boyfriend remembered to tell me what was going on via your (new?) crew-member, what's-her-name.

Don't be a stranger.

-Boz

* * *

_[Text transmission from LuckyStrike_13 to BozenAntillesHavoc]_

_[Subject: RE: Hello?]_

A former Imperial? Hard for me to imagine Mr. "For-the-Republic" willingly teaming up with an Imp, but stranger things have happened, I guess. No comment about the pole or her ass – I don't want to go there. Tell Jorgan I said "hi," and take a holo of his ensuing scowl, as I'm sure it will be epic.

There wasn't much to tell from Taris, especially if Risha filled you in. I caught a local bug and got a little sick, but I'm better now, so no need to worry. Just got off of a long stint on Nar Shaddaa – doing nothing illegal, I assure you – and we're headed to Tatooine. I know you're totally jealous.

Stay safe out there,

-Tan

* * *

_[Subject: RE: RE: Hello?]_

Many former Imperials find their way to the Republic once they see the light; it's to our benefit. At least, that's what I keep trying to tell Jorgan. (Oh, I said "hi," for you. He didn't scowl, but he did roll his eyes and change the subject. Classic Jorgan.)

Please thank Risha and your boyfriend for keeping me up-to-date on your "little" sickness, though they made it sound much worse. Like, you were delusional-with-fever-worse. Glad to know it was just my overactive imagination, that or Risha was exaggerating. I might have to discuss the matter with her over a drink, if you think she'd be into that.

Tatooine? I might see you there. Orders just came in and I'm to take the _Thunderclap_ out that way, so we should meet for dinner, at least. Say...three days, at the Anchorhead Spaceport?

Stay safe, yourself.

-Boz

* * *

_[Subject: RE: RE: RE: Hello?]_

Anchorhead it is. I've got business at a local cantina – Landing Lights**.** Do you have any non-military gear? Folks in places like that tend to get twitchy when armored soldiers start parading through.

Risha...I don't know if she'd be "into that." We don't really know each other well yet, but I can try to put in a good word for you, if you want. She can confirm that your imagination is overactive, and there is no reason for you to waste valuable mental energy worrying about little ol' me.

Wait, wait. Your ship is called the _Thunderclap?_ Is that a regulation name? It sounds like a nasty STD.

Tough break, cuz.

-Tan

* * *

_[Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Hello?]_

It _is_ a regulation name, and the STD thing was my first thought, actually. I considered mentioning it to my CO, but you and I both know that no one in the military appreciates my refined sense of humor.

Don't say anything to Risha about me just yet; I can do my own legwork, thanks. I'll see you at Landing Lights in three days – send me a message when you get there. To answer your question, yes, I do own civvies. I'll even come solo, so I won't look too scary. Wouldn't want to spook the locals.

Take care.

-Boz

PS: Say "hi" to your boyfriend for me.

* * *

_[Text transmission from BozenAntillesHavoc to LuckyStrike_13]_

_[Subject: Your boyfriend]_

No denial? Wait...are you two an item, now? Apparently a lot more happened on Taris & Nar Shaddaa than previously indicated. Intel is my best friend, you know.

Ignore me if you want, but I _will_ get the story out of you later. See you tomorrow.

Love,

-Boz

* * *

_[Text transmission from LuckyStrike_13 to BozenAntillesHavoc]_

_[Subject: We've arrived]_

On Tatooine, about to head to LL**. **If you leave your interrogation suit aboard your STD-ridden ship, I'll talk about stuff. Deal?

* * *

_[Text transmission from BozenAntillesHavoc to LuckyStrike_13]_

_[Subject: RE: We've arrived]_

Suit's stowed. You've got yourself a deal, Tan.

See you soon.

* * *

_A/N: Shorter one, this time. I wanted to bring Boz back, but didn't want to go through a lot of explanation about why he's around again, so I thought I'd give the messaging-thing a shot. Still not sure about the format and usernames, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. _

_No excuses for the "thunderclap" joke. My husband came up with that and it made me laugh. :P_

"_Landing Lights" cantina is Tookreek's place, but I thought Tan would leave his name out of any transmissions. I think in-game the cantina is called "Tookreek's Cantina," so I'm gonna whip out my creative license here. Alas, I can't claim the name; I found it on the Wook, albeit it belonged to a cantina on another planet. It was too cool a name to pass up, though. ;)_

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: Insufferable, stuck-up Jedi._


	23. Tatooine I: Some Truths

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Tatooine portion of the smuggler storyline. As always, I don't own any recognizable dialog._

* * *

**Tatooine I: Some Truths**

_The moon was just a sliver,_

_The light was fading._

_The war was on its way,_

_And we were waiting._

"'Til the Casket Drops,"_ by ZZ Ward, from same._

_Landing Lights Cantina_

_Anchorhead_

It'd been years since Tannith had been this close to a Jedi.

Before the fighting broke out, she'd realized from the tone of their discussion that the others seated at their table – Corso, Boz, Risha and Bowdaar – didn't recognize the blonde woman sitting calmly at the bar for what she was, but Tannith pegged her at once, even before she saw the lightsaber hanging at the woman's hip. Only a Jedi had that watchful, distant look in her eyes that instilled trust even as it infuriated. Only a Jedi was so still at the center of a storm.

It was why Tannith had placed a hand on Corso's forearm to keep him in his seat when he'd made to fend off the thugs who were expressing an unhealthy interest in the woman; it was why, when the cantina's owner and their contact, a Nikto named Tookreek, had hurried away from their table to save his more expensive liquor bottles from destruction, she'd only sat back and waited for the inevitable show.

It was why she felt apprehension coiling in her gut at the thought of being near a Force-user again. Tannith had spent far too long avoiding the Jedi to bump into one here and now, and hoped that this one would pass by and leave her in peace.

No such luck.

Once it was clear that the Jedi was able to defend herself, Tannith had to chuckle at Corso's look of incredulity when he saw her dispatch the thugs. However, the moment the fight ended, Tannith watched the woman's dark blue eyes fix on her, which was when she felt it: a tendril of Force-energy, tentatively curling in her direction. The moment Tannith became aware of the energy, recognition brightened in the Jedi's own Force-presence, and the querying tendril flickered further around her own consciousness.

It was all very faint, either because Tannith herself wasn't strong with the Force, or because the Jedi was trying to be subtle. Possibly both.

Either way, the Jedi took a step towards Tannith, like she wanted to speak to her, and the worry that her secret was about to be revealed was enough to force Tannith to try and head off the situation. If she was going to have to meet a Jedi now, she at least wanted to control how it happened.

But despite these considerations, which she told herself were purely logical, there was a deep, hidden part of her that was pulled to the Jedi, for all that she resisted the notion.

It made no sense. She'd worked for years to put her life as a Jedi Initiate behind her. She'd left her home and estranged herself from her family, all in an effort to pretend that the Force held no sway over her any longer. Though she had never relinquished her old lightsaber crystal, she kept it tucked away and didn't think about it – okay, _most_ of the time. Every day, Tannith told herself that her path was her own.

But now she felt a gentle tug at the edges of her consciousness, as if she was a satellite caught in the Jedi's orbit.

She didn't like it.

She'd been facing the action, her back to her companions, so now she turned and thumbed in the Jedi's direction. "Something tells me she's the kind of trouble Tookreek mentioned. I'll be right back."

Boz met her eyes and she noted how his brow lifted, though he said nothing. Risha shrugged and sipped her drink. Bowdaar nodded once, bending his body into a graceful half-bow. The Wookiee was still recovering from his treatment at the hands of Drooga the Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, but had insisted on coming along on this outing to start earning his keep.

Corso made to get to his feet, but Tannith shook her head. He furrowed his brow. "You sure you don't want some backup?"

She felt a twinge of guilt for keeping him out of the loop, but she knew this was a conversation she was unwilling to involve him in. Even now that they were "courting" or "dating" or whatever the right term was, (Boz had been amused and delighted when she'd told him of the change in her and Corso's relationship), she was unable to reveal this particular secret.

Yet.

If ever.

"I'm a big girl, Corso," she said, giving him a stern look. "I can handle one measly Jedi. With any luck, this will be short and painless. Trust me when I say that the _less_ we have to do with saber-jockeys, the better."

At this, Boz snorted into his drink and subsequently began coughing, which caused the others to look his way. As Risha began to thump the trooper's back, Tannith took the opportunity to slip off and make her way across the room to the bar. The Jedi was eying the bodies of the thugs with detached interest, a marked contrast to Tookreek's huffs of irritation.

"...every time a Jedi comes around, this _poodoo_ happens. And do you pay for damages? _Never_."

The Jedi spread her hands. "You have my apologies, sir, but I would remind you that I was merely defending myself. It was never my intention to cause violence here."

"I should make a complaint to your superiors!"

"Won't do any good," Tannith said as she leaned against the bar, meeting the Jedi's eyes. "They'll just tell you that you should find a new line of work, 'cause drinking is a path to the Dark Side."

Muttering something about obnoxious Human women, Tookreek turned away, and the Jedi stepped forward. "I noticed you and your companions kept away from this fight," she said, nodding once in the direction Tannith had come. "It's good that you chose to do so."

Tannith crossed her arms before her chest. "You put on quite a show, especially since this isn't the sort of place I expect to meet a Jedi."

"It's only the second time I've visited an establishment like this. The other time...also ended badly." The Jedi brushed back a strand of vibrant blonde hair from her eyes and smoothed out the front of her tunic before giving a graceful bow of introduction. "As I told those men, my name is Nariel Pridence."

There was almost no inflection in her voice, as if she'd been drained of all emotion long ago. It was all-too familiar, and Tannith fought back an eye-roll. "Well, what in the void are you doing _here_, Nariel Pridence?"

The Jedi straightened. "I am a Jedi Knight, here on official business." Her eyes fell on the scar at Tannith's cheek. "What's your excuse?"

"I'm what you might call a freelance operator," Tannith replied. "And I'm here on my own business."

It was more of an effort than it should have been to keep her voice steady, and she felt agitation course through her. _It's silly to be nervous, _she thought as she held the Knight's gaze. _There's no way she recognizes you. Even if she was Corellian, it's not like all Jedi know each other, anyway._

"You have the appearance of a common spacer," Nariel said, skimming her eyes across Tannith's dust-covered jacket and boots. "Yet I sensed the Force within you: faint, but present, as if lying dormant. And there is a touch of destiny surrounding you. How curious."

Tannith lowered the pitch of her voice enough to ensure that only the Jedi heard her next words. "That's kind of why I stopped by. I'd appreciate it if you kept all that to yourself, Nariel."

The Jedi's gaze flickered over Tannith's shoulder, then fell back on the red-haired woman. "You do not wish your companions to know the truth. You are hiding from your true path."

"I'm walking my _own_ path," Tannith replied sharply, resisting the urge to look behind her. "All I'm asking is for you to keep your observation under your robes."

"You hide from the truth, yet _you_ approached _me_," the Jedi mused, cocking her head and regarding Tannith with that damnably knowing gaze. "Interesting."

A chill skated up Tannith's spine because the Jedi was right; she'd felt compelled towards the Force-user. _I should have just minded my own business. What the kriff is wrong with me?_

But she'd been drawn to the Force-user, inexorably, as if caught in a planet's gravity-well. Unbidden, an image of her lightsaber crystal sprang to her mind before Tannith pushed it away and schooled her expression to remain neutral, refusing to show how much the idea bothered her. "I can make it worth your while to keep this to yourself."

Nariel lifted a brow. "Surely you know it is futile to bribe a Jedi."

"Bribe is such an ugly word," Tannith replied with a slow shake of her head. "All I'm suggesting is a little trade-off: information for silence."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Tannith leaned forward and held the Jedi's gaze. "This 'official business' of yours...what is it, exactly? Maybe I can help."

The Jedi blinked once, then gave a delicate shrug. "I fail to see the point in telling you, but my mission is not classified. Very well: I'm looking for Vaverone Zare, an agent of evil and servant of the Sith Empire. Have you heard of her?"

"No," Tannith replied. An instinctive feeling of revulsion shuddered through her at the mention of the Sith; she well-remembered the long hours spent learning of the atrocities committed by the Darksiders. "I've met a lot of agents of evil, but nobody by that name."

Nariel folded her hands before her, looking every inch the pious, perfect Jedi Knight. "Zare is a being of vast darkness and a grave threat to the galaxy, and I heard that she has taken an interest in the local underworld, so I came to observe these criminals and gain information. She _must _be stopped."

Her voice rang with fervent conviction, the kind that told Tannith that this was a woman who could easily become obsessed with a goal once she set her mind to it. There was also an element of youthful vigor to the words, one that Tannith remembered all-too-well from her own Temple days; taking into account Nariel's age – which looked to be close to hers, in the mid-twenties – Tannith figured that the blonde woman had only recently been Knighted.

Hell, this might even be one of her first solo missions. If that was the case, Tannith knew that it would be even more difficult to convince Nariel too keep silent.

Difficult, but not impossible. She just had to play it cool and careful.

"Looks like this resource is a dead end." Tannith indicated the lightsaber hanging at Nariel's belt. "Hard to observe quietly when everyone pegs you as a Jedi, isn't it?" She tapped her chin as if deep in thought. "If I were you, I'd enlist the help of someone who's actually able to walk in a place like this and not become a bad joke."

Nariel blinked at her, uncomprehending. Tannith sighed. "You know, someone who can spend more than two minutes in a cantina without cutting anyone's arms off."

The Jedi pursed her lips. "Someone like _you_, I presume?"

Tannith spread her hands in a gesture meant to neither agree nor disagree; it was an old trick of negotiation she'd picked up years ago. "All I'm saying is that we have a chance to be of use to each other. Doesn't the Living Force teach you to make the most of the opportunities presented to you in each moment?"

Nariel's eyes widened as she leveled an incredulous stare at Tannith. "What do _you_ know of the Living Force? Have you...trained as a Jedi?"

_Kriff. _

"Like I told you, my business is my own," Tannith replied, pulling out her holo-comm and deliberately evading the question. "What matters, Nariel Pridence, is that we can both help each other out. Let's exchange holo frequencies, and if I learn anything about that Sith, you'll be the first to know."

"And in return, I suppose you do not want me to reveal your Force-sensitivity to anyone?"

Tannith nodded and stuck out her hand. "Deal?"

There was a long, tense moment where Tannith thought Nariel wouldn't agree, but at last she nodded once and grasped Tannith's hand in her own; her grip was firm and her hand was calloused from years of lightsaber use.

"It is a deal..." Nariel's brow furrowed again. "Forgive me, I do not know your name."

_And you won't be getting it anytime soon. _"Just call me 'Captain.'"

Nariel dipped her head in a polite nod, though her eyes were speculative. "Very well, Captain."

After they shook hands and exchanged holo-frequencies, Nariel indicated the exit across the room. "Given what has occurred here, it's best I move on. I must continue my search for Vaverone Zare."

"Right," Tannith said as she stowed her comm, relieved she wouldn't have to listen to the Force-user's patter any longer. The interaction had gone better than she hoped, and with any luck she wouldn't have to worry about the Jedi sniffing around any more.

Before she stepped away, Nariel cast one last lingering look at Tannith and swept her hand across the bodies that Tookreek had not yet had cleared away. "I hope you see the dangers of consorting with petty criminals."

Tannith clucked her tongue. "Now, now...I'm sure a couple of 'em had it coming."

"Perhaps." Nariel paused. "It has been most...interesting meeting you, Captain, but I feel I must say this: no matter how far you stray, the Force has chosen you as a vessel, and you should behave accordingly. I hope you rethink your path."

The pitch of the Jedi's voice dropped, but the tone solidified into durasteel. Tannith crossed her arms before her chest, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

Ignoring the sarcasm, the Jedi only bowed again. "May the Force be with you."

* * *

Though he couldn't hear a word they were saying above the din of the cantina, Corso's eyes never left Tan and the Jedi-lady. So she wanted to handle this alone – fine, but he resolved to keep himself ready, should she need him. To that end he ignored everything else: the glass of ale warming beside his elbow; the clink and chatter of the cantina's other patrons as they smoked their cigarras and drank their drinks; Bowdaar's rumbling observations and the attempts at flirtation from Lieutenant Boz towards a seemingly uninterested Risha.

At first it looked like Tan was more than in her element, comfortably chatting away with the Jedi as though she did so every day, and Corso felt a slip of awe at the notion. He knew his impressions of the Force-users were similar to most people: they were distant, powerful beings who decided the fate of star systems and had little use for common folks. It was unheard of to simply walk up to one and strike up a conversation.

But there was his captain, leaning against the bar and speaking to a woman who'd just taken down a whole passel of thugs without breaking a sweat. Once he realized the lady wasn't in any mortal danger, Corso had actually enjoyed the display, having never had a chance to see a lightsaber in action this close before. The humming sound made by the plasma beam had been louder than he'd reckoned it'd be, and he hadn't anticipated the accompanying scent of ozone-

_Focus, Riggs, _he told himself, sitting up in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boz glance his way, but the soldier said nothing to him, only continued his conversation with Risha.

Corso watched as Tannith gestured to the Jedi, who looked unconvinced about whatever was being said, and wondered _why _she'd chosen to approach the Force-user like this. Yeah, Tookreek had maybe _kinda_ insinuated that the Jedi was causing him trouble, but it wasn't like the captain to put herself out there quite in this way. Generally, she hung back and observed things before throwing herself in the middle. Hell, she'd even commented that they shouldn't have much to do with Jedi...

So why had she gone out of her way to approach _this_ one?

They'd seen Jedi before – never spoken to them, but they'd seen them. What was it about this particular Jedi that compelled Tan to strike up a conversation? Corso thought back to Taris and Doctor Cel's question about Tan being Force-sensitive, and remembered the callouses on her palms, faint but telling marks that spoke of long hours wielding a vibrosword...or lightsaber.

Blinking, he shook his head. He was being silly. There was no solid proof of anything like that, and he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind and focus on the here and now, which was what mattered.

Besides, even if she _was _Force-sensitive...what would it matter? What would it change?

"...don't care what anyone says," Boz was saying to his right. "There's real trouble brewing out there. I can feel it."

Corso heard the clink of Risha's glass as she set it down on the table. "Anyone can see that, Lieutenant. The Treaty of Coruscant has been fracturing for a long time – if it ever was solid. It's bound to break, eventually. What matters is where you're standing when the bottom finally does fall out."

"With any luck, I'll be at the front, with my cannon pointed at the Imps." There was a pause; Corso thought Boz was sipping his water. "Where will _you_ be standing?"

Risha gave a dry chuckle. "If things go my way: nowhere near any of it."

Something was happening between the Jedi and the captain, and Corso sat up in his chair. While neither one looked particularly upset, he could read the tension in Tannith's shoulders and see a flare of anger in her eyes when the Jedi said something, bowed, and walked away, stepping gracefully over the piles of bodies as she made her way to the exit. Alone, Tan stood for a moment before heading back to the table, and Corso fought the urge to rush to her side, as the look on her face told him she wouldn't appreciate an interrogation right now.

But as she slid into her seat again, he couldn't keep himself from asking, "Everythin' alright?"

"Great," she replied quickly, offering him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Even better now that I don't think we have to worry about her stepping into my business." Before he could say anything further, she glanced around. "Anyone see Tookreek?"

Bowdaar indicated the bar, where the Nikto was barking at a pair of cleaning droids who were probably there for corpse-removal. Tan lifted her hand to catch Tookreek's attention; the barkeep glanced over, then responded by raising his index finger in the galactic signal for _just a minute. _

Sighing, Tannith began drumming her nails against the tabletop while the others resumed their conversation. Corso swore he saw a look pass between Tan and Boz, but the trooper seemed primarily focused on Risha.

"Captain." Corso dropped the pitch of his voice just enough to cause her to look his way. "Are you sure you're okay? You looked..." He paused, unsure how to voice his feelings without sounding silly. "A little upset by the Jedi."

"I said it was fine, didn't I?"

Corso frowned. "But-"

He watched her nostrils flare as she exhaled sharply. "Leave it alone, Corso."

"Fine." A swell of irritation and hurt coursed through him, tightening his jaw like he'd just eaten something sour.

She made no response, only looked away again. To distract himself, Corso took a drink from his mug only to grimace at the too-warm ale within. The others talked around them, seeming to give them space. Boz cast a few meaningful looks towards his cousin, but Corso didn't know the other man well enough to read his expression; Risha didn't seem to bat an eyelash, but her eyes flickered over every so often. Eventually Bowdaar rose and threaded his way to the bar to _convince_ Tookreek to come over.

Through it all, Tannith remained almost motionless at Corso's side, lost in her thoughts. At one point her hand stilled, her gaze became unfocused, and she hardly seemed to breathe, like she was afraid of disturbing something fragile. Pieces of Corso's irritation fell away when he thought she looked a bit like he remembered from Ord Mantell, way back when her ship had been stolen. She looked scared, like she was backed into a corner with no way out. She looked lost.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching his hand out to rest over hers. "Whatever it is, it's gonna be alright."

Her eyes met his and he wondered at the fear he read within them. "I hope so."

She didn't sound convinced. Corso gave her a warm smile. "No matter what, I'm here. You know you can trust me, right?"

Her mouth opened like she was going to say something else, but instead she only nodded once, then glanced back at Tookreek, who was making his way towards them at last.

Corso tried not to let it bother him that she'd not really replied.

* * *

_A/N: The course of true love never did run smooth, right? :P Do you think Tan is justified in keeping this particular secret to herself, or do you think she's making a big deal about nothing?_

_If you're not familiar with the game, Zare's name rhymes with "dare." ;)_

_Thank you for reading! _

_Next time: "Uh...Captain? We've got...somethin'...here."_


	24. Tatooine II: Parting

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Tatooine portion of the smuggler storyline. As always, I don't own any recognizable dialog._

_Chapter title inspired by the song "Parting," by the composer MitiS, which can be found here: _soundcloud dot com (slash) mitis (slash) mitis-parting

* * *

**Tatooine II: Parting**

_Unnamed spice warehouse_

_Anchorhead_

When _that _woman entered the room, Corso's throat went dry and his heart-rate sped up, and it took him a second to realize that it was with fear. There was a coldness to her eyes that creeped him out something fierce and the sound of her Imperial-accented voice gleamed like blood on a duracrete hangar-floor.

A Sith. She _had_ to be a Sith. There was no other explanation for...well, _everything_ about this woman.

Force help him, he hardly even registered what she said when she sashayed up to him and Tan. It was all he could do to try and get his captain's attention as she rooted around an expensive-looking desk, intent on her search for the krayt-dragon fang that would lead them to Tookreek's boss and their ultimate target, Diago Hixan.

"Uh...Captain," he muttered under his breath. "We've got...somethin'...here."

Tannith looked up, clutching the fang in her gloved hand. Her eyes fell on the newcomer, and narrowed. "Who in the Nine Hells are you?"

Rather than answer, the Sith came to a halt before Tan and Corso, resting a hand on her canted hip and eying the krayt-dragon fang as if it were something squashed on the bottom of her shoe. "Is that absurd little trophy the reason Diago sent you?"

"We're here on our own business, lady." The tone of Tan's voice was a hair away from exasperated but Corso noted that her stance had shifted a little, almost like she was anticipating a blow. The Sith made some reply but he hardly listened, instead choosing to edge closer to Tan to offer protection should things get ugly.

Which they probably would.

"I was warned about you," Tan was saying. "There's a Jedi running around Anchorhead who says you're pure evil."

The Sith gave a low, amused laugh that made the hairs on the back of Corso's neck stand at attention. "You mean little Nariel? The poor girl thinks she's my nemesis. It's very sad."

Both women were facing each other. The captain had stowed the fang in one of her jacket's inner-pockets and the Sith's head was lifted in a kind of regal way. Neither one had made a remotely threatening move, both seemed like they were being civil, but Corso was acutely aware of the way the air seemed to shiver around them.

He took a deep breath to bring about a sense of calm and help him stay focused on keeping alert. Being creeped out by a Sith was a legitimate feeling, but it didn't excuse a lax in attention. As Zare and Tan continued to speak, he scoped out the room as discreetly as he could, noting furniture placement in case the Sith got hostile; that chair was bolted to the floor, but _that _one wasn't, and he figured he could throw it if need be; the desk was warra-wood, solid and heavy, and he wondered how quickly a lightsaber could cut through it.

Even if she'd not been so obviously a Sith, there was no mistaking the little cylinder at her sash. Until this job, Corso had only seen Force-users from afar and watched vids of lightsaber combat, but there was something very different about being up-close-and-personal with someone who could slice your head off with what amounted to a flick of the wrist.

He thought back to how easily the Jedi had dealt with those goons in the cantina. While his armor normally made him feel protected, he didn't think it'd do much good against a beam of pure energy wielded by a powerful Force-user. How quickly could a lightsaber take him out? Would he even be able to get a shot in? Would he be able to give Tan precious seconds to get to safety?

Zare took a step forward and Corso's hands instinctively tightened as if they held a weapon, though Sergeant Boom-Boom was holstered. "I'm seeking a small, crimson box," she said. "It's one curio of many in Diago's personal collection. I'll give him whatever he wants for the box, but I need to arrange a meeting." Her pale chin lifted a fraction of an inch, giving the impression that she was offering up a challenge. "Can you do that?"

Beside him, Tannith's voice was still calm, but had turned a little speculative. "Let's pretend I can help you. What would _I_ get, in return?"

Startled, he glanced her way. "Whoa, Captain. You sure about this? I mean-" His eyes flickered back to the lightsaber at Zare's belt. "She's a Sith." _She's dangerous. She can't be trusted. _

Tan saw that, right?

"It's not healthy to torque off people with lightsabers," she said easily, eyes still on Zare. He realized that she hadn't looked away from the Sith, not once; as a matter-of-fact, her gaze had never left the black-haired woman's.

Even though he knew she was ready for a fight, she seemed so calm, almost unnaturally so, and he wondered at the notion. It struck him that she was stalling for time or something, which actually made him feel a bit better, because it meant she had a plan.

"Guess I can see the percentage in that," he replied while wishing he hadn't put Sergeant Boom-Boom away when they'd entered the room in the first place. It would only take him a few seconds to grab the rifle from its holster at his back, but he knew that those few seconds were the difference between walking out of this room and having his legs cut off.

As if reading his mind, (which was probably the case), the Sith smirked.

Tannith's expression remained unreadable.

Force help them both, he _really_ hoped she knew what she was doing.

* * *

_Moments ago..._

After stating her objective, Zare's voice at once challenged and patronized. "Can you do that?"

Tannith could hear her own blood pounding in her ears, matching the furious cadence of her heart. The driving, shuddering urge to get _away _from Zare was at war with a growing irritation with Force-users in general, who apparently thought they could control her every action. First Nariel offered up unsolicited life-advice; now this Sith idiot was acting like she frakking _owned _the whole planet and everything on it, just because she could (probably) shoot lightning out of her fingers.

Okay, _that _was reason enough to use caution, but still. It was the principle that dug beneath Tannith's skin and made her want to blast something, despite the fact that shooting the Sith would be a very stupid thing to do. Oh, there would be a moment of satisfaction...right before her head was lopped off and Corso was burned to a crisp.

Even without true strength in the Force, Tannith could sense the other woman's darkness, settled around her like a caul. Beneath each word was a malicious, seething intent that frightened Tannith more than she'd been prepared for. Nariel had exuded a similar intensity, but it had been...lighter. Kinder. Annoying, but Tannith had no reason to think that the Jedi would cause her or her companions any real, physical harm.

Zare was different. While she was also annoying, there were undercurrents of cruelty that made Tannith's trigger-finger itchy; it was clear from her words that Vavarone Zare was a glorified bully, like all the rest of her kind. A dangerous bully, given the coldness in her eyes and the cruel curve of her lips, but a bully nonetheless.

Tannith didn't like bullies.

It was a point of pride for her to keep her features calm, as she unwilling to reveal just how much the Sith put her on edge. She was well-aware that one wrong move would result in an attack that she and Corso would be unable to defend against, and she very much wanted to keep her legs and her head where they were.

So she chose to play along, for now. Hopefully she could talk her way out of the situation, and she and Corso would leave this place with all of their body-parts still attached. "Let's pretend I can help you. What would _I_ get in return?"

Beside her, Corso shifted nervously. "Whoa, Captain. You sure about this? I mean...she's a Sith."

"It's not healthy to torque off people with lightsabers," she told him, silently urging him to keep his mouth shut. Corso was a magnificent fighter and a kind, loyal man, but it was in their best interest if he left the talking to her right now.

Thank the Force, he seemed to be on the same holo-frequency. "Guess I can see the percentage in that."

Zare sniffed delicately, probably to draw the attention back her way. When Tannith shifted her focus back to the Sith, she watched as the black-haired woman lifted a brow and rested a hand on one hip. "For your assistance, you'll receive a gift few beings ever enjoy: the pleasure of my company."

Corso made a choking sound and Zare's mouth curved into a smirk. For Tannith, it took every ounce of control to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. _Did she just offer to _have sex with me_ if I help her out?_

Well, that was a first.

It took her a moment to form a reply, and even then, it wasn't much of one. "That's really...uh..._generous_ of you, but I'm gonna have to decline."

Zare sighed and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, while her right hand idly lifted to caress her lightsaber hilt. "If you want to pretend like you're not interested, I _can_ offer a more material reward. Everyone has a price, Captain; all I ask is for you to name yours."

The second Tan saw Zare's fingers brush her weapon, any lingering surprise over the strange offer dissipated. A bully. That's all Vavarone Zare was. That's all the Sith were – the Imperials, too. It didn't matter if Zare wasn't openly threatening Tannith and Corso, everything about her revealed her true nature, and Tannith realized that she was kriffing sick of bullies throwing their weight around.

Any caution she'd felt was replaced by anger. It thrummed in her veins, pulsed through each nerve. It pushed away any doubts and honed her focus to a bright point of conviction. She didn't give a shit about Zare, the Sith, or the Imperials any longer. Bullies, all of them, and they could all go straight to any of the Nine Hells. The Jedi, too, as far as she was concerned. Tannith was done with them all.

She was _done._

Tannith narrowed her eyes. Her voice was sharp enough to cause Corso to look at her with alarm. "You want to know my price?"

"I offer the chance of a lifetime," Zare replied smoothly, taking another taunting step forward; Tannith fought the urge to take a corresponding step back, and her anger dialed up another notch. "All I ask is that you arrange a meeting for me with-"

"No-can-do," Tannith broke in, her words tight. Trying to shift her hand closer to Sparkles without looking too obvious, she added: "You're on your own, lady. I'd rather drink a Hutt's bathwater than help you."

Zare pulled a face. "How revolting."

There was no time for Tannith to feel even a little satisfied that she'd annoyed the Sith, because all of her attention was on the weapon that was suddenly in her grip. Sparkles' weight was reassuring and helped her focus; Tannith aimed and squeezed the trigger, watching as two bright streaks of blue plasma raced towards the Sith, who dodged them with only a little difficulty.

Time slowed, or perhaps she'd only forgotten how kriffing _fast _Force-users could move when provoked. As Tannith fired off another round, Zare ducked; within a second or two, her lightsaber was in her hand and the crimson blade was humming eagerly as it blocked the next two shots, sending them flying back. In the corner of her vision, Tannith marked that Corso duck out of the way as a bolt ricocheted off of the lightsaber beam and veered towards him, but she wasn't able to spare him a true glance. Instead, she gritted her teeth and let another few shots fly towards the Sith.

She knew it was stupid. She knew that she'd effectively just signed her and Corso's death warrants, because everyone in this room knew there was no way anyone like her could hope to take on a Sith in this fashion and live. No way.

_So it ends here_, she thought as she let off one more shot that Zare neatly blocked. _I'm sorry, Corso._

When Tannith felt Sparkles fly from her grip, as if snatched by some invisible hand, she knew she'd lost.

_Stupid_.

Sparkles landed in Zare's hand, and the Sith gave Tannith a look that said, _you're an idiot. _

It didn't need to be said, because Tannith knew it was true. Her heart was racing so fast, at first she thought it'd stopped completely, and her breath was short, as if she'd just run a marathon. The Sith said nothing for a moment, just studied Tannith with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Then she felt it again: a prodding of the Force, directed her way, similar to what Nariel had done but far less gentle. Reflexively, Tannith withdrew her awareness into her own mind and tried to keep her sabacc-face, because there was no telling what Zare would do if she knew Tannith was even a little Force-sensitive.

For a long moment, Zare stared at her with those cold, cruel eyes, those eyes that seemed to reach inside her head and throw light on every single shadow, revealing what parts of her she tried so hard to keep hidden. Beneath Zare's gaze, Tannith was acutely aware of her failings: as a Jedi, as an honest citizen, as a smuggler...as an Antilles, though she'd not gone by that name in years.

_Just finish it, _she wanted to shout. What the kriff was Zare waiting for? Beside her, Tannith could practically feel Corso's bewilderment as surely as she could feel his eyes boring into her skull.

But Tannith had no explanation for the stupidity of her actions other than she'd just gotten pissed off.

Yes, she would have made a terrible Jedi.

The moment passed. Zare deactivated her lightsaber with a hiss and clipped it back to her belt before taking a step forward and offering Sparkles back to Tannith, hilt-first, the action signifying how little of a threat she found the red-haired woman to be. "That was _fun_, but unnecessary."

Her voice was mild, as if bursts of plasma hadn't just been flying all over the room, and Tannith felt her jaw tighten as Zare continued. "Now, be a dear and run along, and _do_ reconsider my offer."

With that, Zare turned to leave, but not before casting a parting comment over her shoulder. "Until we meet again...and we will."

* * *

As soon as the Sith left the room, Corso was able to breathe again. They weren't dead, and while he was _really_ jazzed about that fact, it was tough to be happy about much of anything right now, given that his captain had nearly gotten them both sliced into itty-bitty pieces.

He risked a glance her way and noted the firm set of her jaw and the way her grip on Sparkles was dangerously tight, like any second she'd start shooting again. What in the void had compelled her to shoot in the first place? For a second back there, he'd almost thought _he'd _somehow managed to whip out his rifle and fire on the Sith – hell, he'd sure _wanted_ to – so it'd been a shock to realize that _Tan_ had done it.

Corso was no Jedi, but it was clear how pissed off she'd gotten during the conversation with the Sith-lady. Still, he couldn't recollect seeing her act _quite _this reckless in any hostile situation they'd been in, before, and he wasn't sure what to make of it, now.

Kriff, she'd looked so angry, like he'd seen her look any time they'd run into Skavak. Like if she'd been the one with a lightsaber, someone would be missing a few limbs.

Like whatever was going on between her and the Sith was, in some way, _personal_.

And she'd moved so fast...in all the tight spots they'd been in, he'd never seen her draw that quick before. For a tiny second, his captain had – he was sure – taken the Sith by surprise, something he'd never thought possible unless a Jedi was involved.

The evidence was starting to stack up, but he still couldn't quite believe it, so he cleared his throat, hoping to get her to shed some light on the situation. "That was...interestin'."

Silence.

Corso knew they needed to leave but something held him in place. Ever since the incident in the cantina with the Jedi, he'd noted that Tan was more on edge than normal. Something was _wrong_. It had nearly gotten them both killed, so he figured he was within his rights to find out what the kriff was going on.

He touched her hand, which was still gripping Sparkles like her life depended on it. "I don't think Darth Creepy's comin' back, Tan. I reckon you can holster that."

The way she looked at him was like she'd only just realized he was there. Even when her gaze became less distant, Corso still got the impression that her thoughts were light years away. "I guess you're right," she said. "We should get this fang back to Tookreek, anyway."

As she slid Sparkles in her holster, he saw that her fingers were trembling. He tried to catch her eyes again, but she didn't look at him, instead stepping towards the door.

Like he always did, Corso followed. When they reached the exit, however, he decided that he couldn't let this go, not like before. This was bigger than him pushing her to talk about her past; this was life-and-death stuff, especially when Force-users were involved. Especially when one of them was very likely the crimson-haired woman with whom he was most definitely falling in love.

Corso knew if they were going to go the distance, she had to trust him enough to tell him _some _things, and he was starting to understand that if he didn't push her a little bit, she never would and they would never get to move beyond this point. They were a good team; they were strong together. They'd handled everything the galaxy had thrown at them and he had no doubt that they would continue to do so. Didn't she see that?

Before she could step across the threshold he pushed the lock-console so that the door panel slid shut. Tan shot him a confused look, but he spoke first. "What's the deal, Tan? What happened back there?"

She frowned. "We survived an attack by a Sith. Is that a problem?"

"It is when _you_ make the attack," he replied. "I like my head where it is. Don't really care to have it separated from my body by a lightsaber. 'Sides," he added, trying to keep his voice calm. "Running in shootin' is my job. It's not how _you_ do things."

"Then maybe you don't know everything about me," she shot back, sidestepping him to reach for the lock.

Corso let her. "That's kinda the problem. We're a team. We need to be able to depend on each other, 'specially when things get hot. I trust you with my life," he added, frowning. "Every day. That's plain enough. I need you to trust me, too."

She froze, her hand hovering over the softly glowing console. For all of her bluffing, he was learning to read the Corellian woman better than a holo-novel. When her chin dropped a little, when he could see the debate in her eyes, when she didn't offer an explanation or try to object, the impact of the realization hit him like a shot.

"Tan...you _don't_ trust me, do you?" Despite himself, he couldn't keep the hurt from his voice.

The office was cavernous, and her whisper seemed to echo around them. "You know that's not true."

"Then tell me what's going on in that head of yours." He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, like proximity to her would give the kind of closeness he really wanted. "Tannith, please tell me what's wrong. Please let me in."

Her mouth opened but no sound came out, and he watched as she seemed to struggle with some internal fight, like she was trying to speak but the words wouldn't come. Or maybe that was what he wanted to see.

Finally she shook her head. "I can't."

She broke the seal of their hands to slap against the lock; the door-panel slid open with a hiss that reminded him a little too much of a lightsaber, and she hurried out of the room, leaving him alone.

* * *

_More angst, I know. But no relationship is without its rough patches. _

_Thank you for reading!_

_Next time: A heart-to-heart between the boys. _


	25. Tatooine III: Distractions

_FYI, there's a bit of swearing in this segment. Nothing horrible, but more than I usually include._

* * *

**Tatooine III: Distractions**

_Staring at the bottom of your glass,_

_Hoping one day you'll make a dream last._

_But dreams come slow, and they go so fast._

~ _"Let Her Go," by Passenger, from _All The Little Lights_._

_Anchorhead Spaceport_

_Hangar 87 _

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

From his place in the lounge of the _Lucky Strike, _Corso gritted his teeth and tried to block out the noises coming from the ship's engine compartment. He wanted to focus on cleaning out the barrel of his blaster-rifle, which was coated with dust, sand and carbon. It'd been far too long since he'd given Sergeant Boom-Boom a good cleaning, and-

_CLANG_

"Stang it," he muttered as the barrel clattered to the table, rolled towards the edge then off, falling to the floor with a _clink_, one that was nearly drowned out by the sounds from the direction of the engines.

_CLANG CLANG CLANG _

Corso pulled a face; he didn't want to be annoyed by the ruckus, but he was.

He couldn't help it, not after his and Tan's run-in with Darth Creepy, yesterday. Yeah, they'd walked away with all their body-parts attached, but after their argument at the warehouse she'd hardly said two words to him. Early this morning, before he'd even woken up, she'd taken Bowdaar out on the jobs she'd contracted on this world; that had been hours ago.

In the time since, he and Risha had made a supply run, then he'd taken to scrubbing the grit and sand out of his weapons, while Risha tinkered around in the ship's innards. It'd been okay for a while, but now, each _clink _and _clang _that emanated from the engine room made his jaw get tight. Corso would have preferred to be at Tan's side, even if they were pissed at each other, but failing that, he wanted peace and quiet, some time to _think. _

Which was turning out to be impossible.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Dropping his rag, he inhaled deeply and counted to ten in his head to let the rush of anger in his blood ease, then picked up the barrel once more. He waited for another minute, listening. There was nothing, so he hoped that Risha was done with whatever she was working on. He took another breath and started to rub the Dallorian alloy cylinder again, taking care to work the edges of the rag along every nook and cranny of the barrel, hoping to wipe away every last trace of dirt.

_**CLANG**_

This sound was definitely louder than all the others; they seemed to be getting worse and more frequent."That's it," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm done."

Cleaning could wait. After hastily setting his stuff in his bunk, Corso poked his head in the engine room, wincing at the noises that rang out of the smallish space. The slender, brown-haired woman was hunched over the hyperdrive, whacking a mallet against something he couldn't make out.

"Risha!" he called out over the din.

The blasted noise ended abruptly as she turned; the absence of sound was almost more jarring than the din itself, and he rubbed at his ears as she studied him. "What?"

"Mind holdin' down the fort? I'm going to step out for a drink."

"Now?"

He shrugged. "Don't see why not. The captain and Bowdaar probably won't be back until tonight."

There was no way of knowing if Tan would even want him around when she got back, and, truth be told, he needed a little room to breathe right now. He knew she had her reasons for keeping some secrets, and he didn't begrudge her that, not at all, but the notion that she _still _didn't trust him, after all they'd been through, after as much care as he tried to take...

Well, it was more than he could swallow all in one go. Maybe a little ale would help wash it down.

Risha smoothed out a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun. "Fine. SeeTwo and I will keep an eye on things, here." She paused, then slanted him a speculative look. "Are you alright? You seemed a little...off, at the market. Not your usual jovial self."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, nodding quickly. Her concern was...well, it was nice, but he didn't really want to get into a discussion about his emotional state with the brown-haired woman right now. Risha was a good person to have around a starship engine, but he could never quite shake the feeling that she was mocking him.

"Hmm." Something flashed in her eyes, but she nodded once. "Have a drink for me."

Corso made a noise of acknowledgment and hurried off the ship, careful to lock the hatch behind him. Since he didn't feel like facing the stifling heat of Anchorhead any more than he had to, he made his way to the cantina within the space-port itself, whose name he forgot almost the second he entered.

It wasn't a large or particularly nice establishment, but at least it was free of sand. This being the space-port, there were a wide mix of patrons here; he could see Twi'leks, Weequays, Niktos, and Sullustans, along with a few more folks whose species he couldn't identify immediately. It wasn't even a little quiet, but this was a kind of noise that he was used to. Some pop-song he didn't recognize was playing on the jukebox; the music blended seamlessly into the chatter of the cantina's patrons, and the air was a bit too warm, even inside.

After procuring a full pitcher and an empty glass, Corso took a seat at one of the tables near the back of the room and tried to absorb himself in people-watching. There was a game he sometimes played when he was in a crowd like this; he'd watch a conversation taking place, out of earshot, and make up things the folks were saying. It was an easy distraction.

It worked for a little while.

But soon the darker thoughts came creeping back in, and the ale and the noise weren't enough to keep them at bay. He thought back to Nar Shaddaa, to Taris, to Coruscant...even Ord Mantell. He tried to think of something he'd said or done _wrong_, something that made her continue to keep him at arm's length.

They'd barely known each other on Ord, but he'd tried to do his best work for her; he'd hoped to impress the beautiful, crimson-haired woman, to at least make her turn that smile his way once or twice. He must have done something right, because she had.

On Coruscant they'd gotten to know each other a little more. They'd developed a real working rapport and learned how to fight as a team. They'd become true allies, and he'd gotten a glimpse of _who_ she was behind those blue eyes that may as well have been walls of durasteel.

The walls had come down a little on Taris, enough for him to see that his feelings weren't one-sided, like he'd wondered. They'd come down a bit more on Nar Shaddaa, and she'd actually admitted what he'd never dared to have hoped for: she wanted him, too. Maybe as much as he wanted her. He'd thought that she would let him be the guy to breach those walls at last.

It all sounded so stupid, now.

_Why doesn't she trust me? What else can I do to _show_ her she can trust me?_

Sorrow grabbed his heart and squeezed. Even seated in the crowded cantina, Corso felt very alone. His family was gone, save one, and despite his efforts to track her down he didn't know if he'd ever see his cousin Rona again. And now Tannith didn't seem to want him, either.

Why did it feel like no matter how hard he tried, he still managed to kark everything up? What was the point of it all?

Corso took another swig of ale and frowned at the amber liquid in his glass, as it was much too warm. The pitcher was nearly empty; apparently he'd been sitting here for a long time. His chrono told him it was still late afternoon, edging towards suppertime, but he wasn't hungry in the least.

As he was trying to decide how pathetic it would be to order another pitcher to drink alone, the chair across from him scraped against the floor as it was pulled out. Corso looked up to see Boz settling in, a pitcher of ale and two glasses carefully balanced in his grip while he maneuvered the chair with the toe of his boot. The soldier nodded to him as he placed the glasses on the table-top and began to pour.

Corso cleared his throat. "Thanks, but I don't need-"

"Yeah," Boz said, picking up his own glass and sliding the other towards Corso. "You do."

The lieutenant took a swig but Corso shook his head and pushed his glass back. At Boz's lifted brow he indicated the almost-empty pitcher he'd initially bought. "If I have much more, I won't be able to walk out of here."

Boz shrugged. "Walking's overrated, sometimes." He slid the glass back towards Corso. "Don't make me order you."

"You can't order me, Boz," Corso replied at once, sitting up a little straighter even as his head swam with the sudden movement. "I ain't part of your squad."

"No shit." Boz snorted and sipped his drink again. "If you were, I'd really give you a piece of my mind and tell you to get the kriff over this little funk of yours."

Corso scowled; the ale seemed to swim in his veins and make his vision a little watery, and he knew the rush of irritation was also a product of the nearly-empty pitcher. But still, he couldn't let that one go. "It's not a _funk_," he said with a (deliberately slow and careful) shake of his head. "I jus' needed some time to think, is all." He shot a pointed look at the trooper. "_Alone_."

"Ah, _thinking_-time, of course," Boz replied, nodding sagely and indicating the bar around them, where Corso could see a pair of Weequays who looked like they were in the midst of a drinking contest. "An establishment like this is the _perfect _spot for philosophical musings."

Normally, Corso didn't mind the soldier, but he wasn't in the mood right now. "Don't you have a Republic to be savin'?"

"Not at the moment. Drink." When Corso didn't, the lieutenant sighed and cast his eyes to the ceiling in a gesture that reminded Corso so much of Tan, it made his chest get tight. "Fine," Boz said. "Have it your way. I'm trying to be friendly, in case it's not clear. But you're making it damn difficult."

This made Corso's brows knit. "Why?"

"Why are you making it difficult for me to be friendly?" Boz swirled the ale around in his glass, then took another drink. "I dunno. That's on you, Riggs."

Corso sighed. "Why are you tryin' to be friendly?"

Boz shrugged. Even without his gear, he was a pretty solidly-built guy; Corso knew from experience how heavy all that duraplast armor was, how strong a man had to be to carry that kind of weight. "Tan comm'd me earlier," the trooper said at last. "Havoc's off-duty until tomorrow, and she asked me to take a peek at the _Strike _and make sure you and Risha hadn't blown it up or anything. My words, not hers," he added. "Tan's a lot classier than me."

Corso said nothing, only nodded and idly took a sip of his ale, if only to do something with his hands. Of course, the instant the liquid hit his tongue he remembered that it was warm and immediately regretted taking the drink. He glanced up at the fresh glass Boz had brought, then reached forward to pull it closer. It was still nice and cold, a welcome change from the too-warm air. As the ale trickled down his throat he glanced up at Boz and nodded at the glass in silent thanks. The soldier inclined his head in response, and for a while the two men sat without speaking.

"You'd make a decent addition to Havoc," Boz said suddenly, making Corso blink in surprise. He glanced at the trooper, who waved a hand in the general direction of Corso's head. "You'd have to get a haircut and go through a crink-load of basic training, but otherwise...you'd work out."

"Uh...thanks," Corso replied, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

Boz leaned back in his chair and swept his eyes across the room, giving Corso the impression that every sense was attuned for trouble despite his casual stance. "Didn't think you'd stick around this long," he continued after a beat, looking back at Corso. "But I'm glad I was wrong."

Corso took another sip of ale. Boz did as well, then shook his head. "I know she's hard to work with, sometimes. More than once, I've found myself wanting to grab her shoulders and try to shake some sense into that crazy, stubborn head of hers."

He didn't have to say Tannith's name; they both knew. She was, after all, the common denominator between them, the reason that they were both seated here, sharing an awkward drink.

Corso didn't want to think about her, right now, but she was all he could see when he closed his eyes. "She's not crazy."

"I know." Boz sighed heavily. "But she _is_ hard to work with. She's...kriff, she's such a fragging loner, sometimes. I hate it. I kriffing _hate_ it."

A sharp edge had crept into his voice, making Corso glance up. The trooper was scowling into his glass like it had insulted him. "I love her like a sister, you know, but that damn woman drives me kriffing crazy when she gets like she gets. When she-"

The words broke off as Boz shook his head rapidly, as if to clear it, and his next words were softer. "Tan acts like she's all alone in the galaxy, like no one gives a shit about her, but she knows that's not true." He glanced up and met Corso's eyes. "Right?"

Corso took a moment to reply, first rolling his words around in his head, testing their weight before giving them voice. "I dunno what she knows," he said at last, slowly. "But I do know she's not alone. She's got me."

If he'd had a bit less ale he might not have said something like that, but right now he didn't give a kriff what Boz thought about him, or his relationship with Tannith. He knew she'd told her cousin they were _in_ a relationship, but beyond that...he had no clue what Boz knew. And he didn't care.

Besides, it was true. _She does have me, _he thought. _She always has, pretty much from Day One. Reckon she always will._

_This_ feeling right now, this was bad, but he realized that it wasn't a dealbreaker for him. Her walls were still up, but they weren't high enough to turn him away. They weren't high enough to keep him from falling on the other side. _Love_. He was well and truly on his way. It wasn't that he hadn't known it, before; it was just that he hadn't really acknowledged it to himself until now.

Boz was studying him in that calculating, military way that Corso had come to know well back in his days in the Peace Brigade. He knew when he was being sized up, and straightened in his seat on instinct. He met the lieutenant's eyes easily but said nothing.

After a moment, Boz nodded once. "I know she has you. And there's a part of me that wants to beat the kriff out of you for even _thinking _about her like that," he added, and Corso felt a surge of combative adrenaline in his veins at the notion.

"But," the soldier added, setting his glass down. "It's a small part. Even when we were kids, she never let me get used to protecting her, and she's proved a hundred times over that can take care of herself." He sighed heavily and added: "Truthfully, I'm...glad she found a decent guy to keep at her side."

"Well, I think you're the only one," Corso replied. "She doesn't seem to feel that way."

He wasn't able to keep the bitter tinge from his voice, and took a swig of his ale to conceal his expression. Boz, however, nodded slowly. "Risha mentioned some kind of flare-up between the two of you."

_Flare-up. _It was Corso's turn to roll his eyes. "What does Risha know about any of this?"

"Hard to keep secrets on a small ship like the _Strike_. Risha didn't know the specifics, but she thought it was weird that Tan opted to take the big furry guy with her this morning, when you've been pretty much glued to her side."

"Bowdaar's a great fighter," Corso said quickly. "And it's smart to take a Wookiee with you when you want some muscle."

"I'm sure Bowdaar is a real gem," Boz replied, nodding. "But I know Tan's MO, and I know that expression you're wearing better than you might think. Not because she's had a ton of other guys following her around," he added as Corso frowned. "Just because I've felt like that, more than once, and I'm only her cousin. Tan's great at making a man feel alone."

Shaking his head, Corso looked back at his ale, watching the way the lights recessed into the ceiling gleamed off the dark liquid. "She's not cruel. She's just..." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Stubborn, I guess, like you said. Set in her ways."

He wasn't looking directly at Boz, but in the corner of his eye Corso swore he saw the trooper's mouth pull into a faint smile. When he did look up, the lieutenant's expression had smoothed. "'Set in her ways,'" Boz repeated, lifting his glass again. "That's a very diplomatic way to put it."

"No one's perfect," Corso replied at once. "Not me, that's for damn sure. We've all got stuff that weighs us down, and we all try to keep goin' as best we can." He paused, thinking. Despite the blur of ale in his head, his thoughts were surprisingly clear. "Tan's been on her own for a long time; sometimes, it's probably pretty strange for her to have me taggin' along."

The lieutenant made a noise of agreement as he refilled his glass. He moved to refill Corso's as well, but Corso shook his head, and Boz leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Tan's got her secrets," Boz said. "So do I. So do you, and Jorgan, and Risha, and Elara. Tannith just makes a bigger deal out of them than most people."

It wasn't that Corso didn't understand that notion; it was that the words struck very close to a nerve that had been touched the day before, with the Sith-lady. Hoping to keep his face from showing his agitation, Corso studied the other man. "Is one of those secrets that she's Force-sensitive?"

To his credit, the trooper didn't bat an eyelash. He did, however, take a long pull of his drink before setting it down and regarding Corso calmly. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Does it matter?"

There was a flash of warning in Boz's pale blue eyes, but it didn't faze Corso one bit. "Humor me," Boz said.

"We've been around, and I pay attention," Corso replied with a shrug.

Beyond them, Corso could hear the cantina's patrons, still laughing and talking amongst themselves; someone was smoking a familiar brand of cigarra, and he glanced over to see if it was her. It wasn't.

A minute passed, then another, before Boz decided to speak, though it was more of a murmur to himself, something that sounded suspiciously like, _kriffing Jedi... _At last he sighed and met Corso's gaze again. "That's not my secret to tell."

Irritation surged through Corso's veins, but he chalked it up to the ale and his already-foul mood, and paid it no mind. He wasn't surprised at Boz's unwillingness to answer; to be honest, he kind of respected the man for it. Boz was, in his own way, protecting his cousin. So he nodded and sipped his ale. "Fair enough."

"For what it's worth," Boz said, leaning forward and dropping his voice so that it was nearly indiscernible through the din of the cantina. "She's never, _ever _talked about anyone like she's talked about you."

"That's...good to hear," Corso said after a beat. "Sometimes, I wonder..." He sighed and trailed off, shaking his head, which was spinning a little bit more than he would have liked. "I wonder if she trusts me, at all. I wonder if she'll ever let me in."

"Don't."

The word was brusque, almost an order, and Corso frowned at the soldier. Boz sat back up and glanced around the cantina again, his eyes coming to rest on the pair of Weequay at the bar. The drinking-game had apparently turned into a loud discussion; their voices were raised, but not in true anger, and Corso watched as the soldier assessed the potential threat, and, finding none, looked back his way.

"Don't wonder about that stuff. Just...be patient with her, Corso," he said, more quietly than before. "She's a stubborn, frakking idiot sometimes, but she'll come around. She won't let you down."

Despite the rough words, there was a deep affection in the soldier's voice, and Corso couldn't help the tiny smile that crept to his face. Tan had a way of bringing out the best in people; he'd seen it on more than one occasion and experienced it, himself. Even if he wasn't in such a great mood right now, the maudlin edge had been taken off of his bitterness, and he felt..._better_. Not completely normal, but better.

"Thanks," he said, lifting his glass in salute.

Boz smiled and raised his own glass, and they each took a drink. When Boz set his down, he gave Corso a stern look, one that was pure soldier. "I won't ask you to keep this-" He indicated the space between them. "-from her, but Force knows she'd have my head on an electrostaff if she knew I was messing with her business..."

Corso couldn't help but chuckle. "Noted. I won't lie to her, but I won't bring this up unless she asks. How's that?"

"That works." Boz grimaced. "Kriffing hell. She could_ totally_ kick my ass if she wanted. She's little, but she's _fast_."

An image of Tan whipping Sparkles out of her holster and aiming at the Sith flashed through Corso's mind. Her hand had been a blur, her movements like sunlight across water. _Fast. _That was putting it diplomatically.

But there was nothing he could do about it, now. She'd had her secrets since the first day he met her; if he wanted to stick around, he had to accept that and make the best of it. _You know she trusts you, _he told himself. _That's what matters – what you know. _

He was only a little surprised that the words rang true.

Though he felt better, Corso wasn't quite ready to head back to the _Strike_, so he cleared his throat and gave Boz his own version of a knowing look. "So...how was Miss Risha?"

The soldier made a show of examining the contents of his glass. "That's classified intel."

"Ah, come on," Corso replied, sitting up. "I let you grill me about my love-life. It's only fair."

Boz took a long, long swig of his ale before leaning forward. "Alright, fine. But nothing leaves here," he added, tapping the table-top with his index finger. "Got that, Riggs?"

In response, Corso gave a sharp salute, which was quite a feat given all the ale. When Boz rolled his eyes, the motion reminded him of Tan, but it didn't hurt like it had, before, and he found that he was able to laugh.

* * *

_A/N: So, I wasn't planning on having a Boz/Corso conversation quite yet, but the characters surprised me. I think Corso liked having another guy around, for this. _

_Thank you for reading! :)_

_Next time: making up. _


	26. Tatooine IV: Forgiveness & Stuff

**Tatooine IV: Forgiveness and Stuff**

_I'm holding my heart out, but clutching it, too._

_~ "Reasons Why," by Nickel Creek, from their self-titled album._

_Later..._

By the time I make it back to the _Strike_, it's after another shared pitcher with Boz, and we're both stumbling a _lot_ more than we should. Thankfully, the trip from the cantina to the hangar is trouble-free. When we say our good nights at the hangar's entrance, he orders me to be extra-careful gettin' back to the ship, as Tan will "have his head" if something happens to me. I know the same is true for Boz, so we promise each other we'll each walk real slow and careful-like back to our respective ships.

The hangar-bay is open to reveal a deep, dark sky peppered with stars; there are more than I'd've figured, given the combined lights of Anchorhead and the planet's three moons. Below the sky there's an ocean of pale, moon-bleached sand that seems to stretch out forever. I glance at the _Strike_, resting silently on the duracrete floor, then decide to make my way to the hangar's edge to get a better look at the stars.

As I pass by the _Strike'_s loading-ramp, I catch the scent of cigarra smoke and her voice hits me like a shot. "Corso."

My heart actually skips a beat. She has that effect on me. Not sure what to do, I freeze in place and keep my eyes ahead. "Captain?"

"Got a minute?"

Now I glance over and see her seated at the base of the loading-ramp, knees bent, holding a burning cigarra. There are handfuls of cigarra-ends scattered around her, which makes me wonder how long she's been sitting out here, and if she's really been waiting for me. It sure looks that way. When my eyes make it to her face I can't read her expression through the darkness.

I reach her side and take a seat next to her; my movements are a little more clunky than normal, but I manage not to fall, so that counts as a win in my book. Even if I thought I wouldn't be all slurry and senseless I'm not sure what to say. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and watch the spirals of smoke that she's blowing away from me get carried off by the warm night breeze.

Between us, there's a long, long silence. Awkward too, like neither one of us knows quite how to begin whatever is probably gonna be said. Just when I think I'm gonna have to try and pull some words together first, she speaks up. "I didn't know when you were coming back."

"I...needed some time."

Tan nods and meets my eyes. Most of the hangar is shadowy, but at this angle the moonlight is bright enough to show the worry in her gaze. "I don't want to keep you at arm's length," she murmurs. "I have a hard time letting folks in, even when I want to. Because...well, because I just do." She sighs heavily. "That's a pretty terrible reason."

I _almost _chuckle at this, because...well, it's just so _her. _But I don't much feel like laughing, even a little bit, and even if I did, I've got enough sense to know now's not the time. I may be drunk, but I'm not a kriffin' idiot.

"It's a truthful one, at any rate," I say after a beat.

Tan takes another drag. The burning tip of the cigarra flares brightly before she exhales a stream of smoke. "I'm sorry."

Stars above, her voice is so small. I've never heard it this way before, and some of the parts of me that were upset with her ease up a little even as my heart seems to get tight in my chest. She's hurting too. I know it takes guts to apologize, and I can tell this one's heartfelt.

Suddenly all that other stuff doesn't matter. What happened with the Sith seems not worth bein' upset over, and I just want to be close to Tan. That's all I want. I can't stop myself from putting an arm around her shoulders. "Forgiven."

The cigarra falls to the hangar floor as she leans her head into my neck, pressing herself close to my side. "I do trust you," she murmurs into my shirt. "Please believe that. It's _me _that's the problem."

"It's okay," I say. "I know you trust me." It's always so good to touch her, so I reach up and push a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, letting my fingertips brush against her cheek. "I just need to hear it, sometimes."

I feel her nod against my shoulder. "I'll try to be better."

This makes me smile. _Better. _What could possibly be better? "Alright."

"So...we're okay?"

Kriff, she feels so good against me, I can't help but rub her shoulder gently. In response, her body molds itself to mine, like we were made for each other, like we're two parts of one whole. I inhale, and her scent fills the air around me; cigarra smoke and leather, and something sweet that she uses to wash her hair.

Three specific words almost come out, but I change them at the last second. Now's not the time. "Yeah, we're okay."

"Good." There's a pause, then she speaks again. "Will you come with me, tomorrow? I think I'll be heading to Hixan's hideout, and Bowdaar still hasn't recovered from Drooga's treatment."

"Aye, Captain," I say, unable to stop myself from teasing her a little. What I say next is more serious, though. "You know I'll follow you anywhere."

"Thank you." Her entire body relaxes into mine and for a few minutes we sit in silence. Again, I study the dunes beyond the hangar-bay door, watching as a particularly strong wind picks up bits and pieces of sand, and scatters 'em like sugar.

The scattered sugar-sand dissipates, but I know it's not gone, only shifted. Nothing is ever truly gone, but it can change. It can get better. It already has.

The world is quiet and dark. Beneath the sound of wind I can hear the melody of Tan's breathing, and right now it feels like we're the only people on this whole planet.

Tan murmurs an apology again; I hug her shoulders and tell her it's okay, again. After, with her her cheek still resting against my chest, she inhales deeply, like she's breathing me in. Like I sustain her as much as she does, me.

Now we sit in comfortable silence and I don't think, I _know_ that nothing is as good as this.

_Nothing_.

* * *

_A/N: Short installment, I know. This was originally attached to the tail-end of the previous one, but I thought it should stand on its own. I don't normally write first-person POV, present-tense, but thought the emotion in this piece lent itself to that format. A similar POV/tense from Tan will appear in a later vignette._

_Thank you for reading! :)_

_Next time: Confrontation in Lightspring Cavern. _


	27. Tatooine V: Trigger

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Tatooine portion of the smuggler storyline. As always, I don't own any recognizable dialog or any reprinted song lyrics._

* * *

**Tatooine V: Trigger**

_Oh, Adeline, have mercy,_

_You don't wanna break my heart._

_Take what's mine, don't hurt me;_

_Steal my money, steal my car._

_Don't take my man, don't take my man,_

_I said, don't take my man 'cause you know you can._

~ "Put The Gun Down,"_ by ZZ Ward, from 'Til The Casket Drops_

Thank the Force, Corso didn't feel _too_ hungover the next morning, so he and Tan made the trip out to Lightspring Cavern without any issues. It was just the two of them; Boz and his squad were away on their own business, while Risha stayed with the _Strike _and promised to check in if she didn't hear anything for a spell_. _Bowdaar wantedto come too, but Tannith insisted he take some more time to rest; Corso didn't know everything that Drooga the Hutt had done to the poor fella, but whatever it was had been bad enough to knock the Wookiee on his ass for a couple of weeks.

Neither Corso nor Tan spoke much on the ride across the sands. While he wouldn't have minded a conversation about the previous night, Corso could tell that his captain's mind was on the task at hand. It was also kind of hard to talk with the engine of her rented speeder whining, so he concentrated on not letting the sway of the vehicle make him any more nauseous than he already was.

Before they'd left he'd popped some painkillers and chugged about a gallon of water, so while he wasn't at one-hundred percent, he didn't think he was doing all that bad. At least Boz had lent him a helmet that could comfortably cover his dreads, so he didn't have to worry about getting sand in his face.

When Tannith pulled the speeder up outside the cavern's entrance, he could see another vehicle resting behind a nearby rock, and figured it was the Jedi-lady's, as Tannith had said Nariel would be coming out here, too. For a second, he and Tan stood at the mouth of the cavern, looking down the shadowy opening that yawned before them, then she turned around and studied the path they'd come up, like she was searching for something.

"We can do this, Captain," he told her quietly. "Get in. Deal with Diago. Get out. That sensor computer is as good as ours."

A half-smile slipped across her face, and she gave him one of those looks that was supposed to be confident, though he could see that it was a mask. "Just that easy, huh?"

"Now, I didn't say it'd be _easy,_" he replied, offering her a genuine smile even though he knew she couldn't see it through the visor of his helmet. "But I reckon it'll be excitin'."

She sighed and stepped forward, crossing the line of shadow and entering the cave. "I'm about done with Tatooine's particular brand of 'exciting.'"

"Then let's get this over with," he said as he fell in step beside her and checked the charge on Sergeant Boom-Boom's power-pack again. He hoped he wouldn't need to use the rifle, but he'd damn sure be ready if the situation called for some firepower.

Within the cavern, the temperature drop was noticeable, making it an almost pleasantly cool walk to the main chamber. Corso was no geologist, but he could tell that the cave was older than old; there were huge formations of (hopefully stable) jagged, rust-colored rock hanging from the ceiling and jutting up from the floor. There was only one corridor, lit by faintly glowing lamps strung against the rock, and when he removed his helmet he could smell water. Sure enough, as they approached the main cavern, he saw a ripple of light ahead and realized it was from a small spring.

When Corso and Tannith descended the ramp into the cavern that served as the meeting-ground, he saw that the Jedi was already there, along with Tookreek and the infamous Diago Hixan, a mountain of a man with an even bigger reputation for being a jerk. Hixan was seated on a padded chair, surrounded by plush rugs and other bits of wealth and power, while Tookreek stood to the side. Hixan was a man who did not, apparently, care for Jedi. The minute Corso and Tan were spotted by one of the security droids, Corso could hear Tookreek getting his scaly ass chewed out by Hixan, followed by the Nikto's hurried explanation.

"_I_ invited the Jedi," Tannith broke in as Tookreek tried to explain the blonde-woman's presence to his boss. "She's a little stiff, but basically alright."

Everyone's eyes turned to the newcomers, setting Corso on high-alert. He didn't like the appraising way that Hixan studied Tan, or the way Tookreek didn't meet their gazes, as if he had something to hide. _Not a very warm welcome, considering all the work we've done for the guy so far. _

Even the blonde-haired Jedi frowned at them as they approached the assembled group. "You shouldn't have come. You should have kept out of this."

Tannith shrugged. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"It isn't safe here," the Jedi replied, shaking her head emphatically.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea." An all-too-familiar voice made Corso's stomach twist, and everyone looked over to see Vavarone Zare stepping out of a nearby alcove. The Sith-lady made a direct heading for Tan, and he tightened his grip on his rifle in a silent warning.

One that she didn't seem to notice. "Hello again, Captain. Forcing me to follow you through that blazing desert? _Not_ your best move."

_Kriff. Darth Creepy was followin' us? _Corso kept his expression neutral, like Tan's was, but within he was cursing himself. He'd had no clue...was that why Tan had seemed so anxious on the ride out here? He must have been more out of it than he thought. _Pull it together, Riggs. Focus._

"I hope you got blisters all over your pale, Sithy feet." Tan's words were sharper than normal, and Corso couldn't withhold a nod of agreement.

Zare's eyes narrowed as they darted between Tan and Corso. "I'm feeling _especially _unsympathetic towards you."

At this, the Jedi cleared her throat. "Surrender is your only option, Zare. You can't win."

Corso almost didn't hear her words, as in that moment, Hixan slammed his fist on his chair, the resulting _boom _echoing through the cavern loud enough to make little chunks of rock clatter to the ground. The whole kriffing cavern seemed to tremble, and he ignored whatever foolishness the massive gangster was spouting as he glanced around warily, praying that this place was more stable than it felt at the moment.

The trembling stopped, right as Tan's holocomm began to chirrup; when she activated the transmission, Risha appeared at the transceiver beside Hixan's chair. While Corso was glad that she'd remembered to check in, it couldn't have happened at a worse time, as it sent off the gangster again – apparently Risha was his _type_. Corso shuddered at the thought.

It was strange when Risha seemed to cut off the transmission the second she realized they were with Hixan, but he found it hard to care much about that, as the second Risha's image vanished, the gangster stomped his foot and began shouting for her to come back, marking the beginning of a truly epic hissy fit.

_How the heck did this guy get to be so feared?_ Corso thought as he watched the massive man caterwaul about an absent holo-transmission. _Guess it takes all types to make the galaxy turn._

"...bring her to me." Hixan towered over Tannith, who gave him a carefully blank look. "She is _mine."_

"Diago, dear, I can offer you _so _much more," Zare broke in, stepping smoothly between Hixan and Tan, and Corso actually felt a teensy bit of gratitude for the fact.

One that evaporated with the Sith's next words. "Just as soon as we rid ourselves of this Jedi and her little friend."

"Afraid to fight me alone, Sith?" The Jedi's voice was mostly calm, but Corso recognized the challenge for what it was.

Before Zare could reply, Hixan finally seemed to get tired of not being the center of attention, and began shouting for everyone else to shut up. The Jedi said something to him, probably trying to put him in his place, but Corso ignored them all.

Instead, he looked at Tan and realized that she was standing almost dead-center between the Sith and the Jedi, her eyes darting between the Force-users, who were staring one another down. It was clear that not a one of the women was really paying the gangster any mind; all of their attention was on one another.

And his captain was caught in the middle.

The notion hit him like a ton of duracrete. She was Force-sensitive – that much he'd figured out, by now. Corso still wasn't sure if _destiny_ was something he believed in, but he couldn't deny that the sight before his eyes seemed to mirror what was happening in the galaxy as a whole: there was a war forming between the two Force-using factions and their allies. The Sith. The Jedi. The Empire. The Republic.

_War_.

It was on its way.

_It'll find us, eventually, _he thought as a knot began to form in his gut. _Maybe it already has. _

Tannith was Force-sensitive, but only now did he understand how much that would change things for her. He knew she'd deny it if he asked, but the evidence was right here, standing unnaturally still with hands hovering over lightsaber hilts.

If true war broke out again, someone like Tan would be sucked into the center of everything, caught like a moon in orbit.

And no one, not Tannith or Boz or Risha or Corso himself, would be unable to stop it.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Darth Creepy, seemingly fed up with standing around, waved her hand at Tannith and spoke in a clear, resonant voice that somehow made Corso's thoughts go a little more fuzzy. "You want to draw your weapon. You want to kill the Jedi."

But his captain was too smart for any of that. Tannith gave a snort of derision. "Actually, I want to _laugh_ at how silly you are."

"Stong-minded, hmm?" Zare's voice was cool, but Corso could read the irritation behind her words. "I'm so disappointed with you, Captain. I had thought you showed a modicum of potential, but you've proven that you're no use to me, after all."

Her hand slid to her lightsaber and activated the glowing red beam. Across from her, the Jedi did the same, her blazing emerald saber a stark contrast to the Sith's weapon. The sudden presence of so many humming lightsabers caused Corso to lift Sergeant Boom-Boom, pointing the muzzle squarely at the Sith.

But Zare only looked at him, which was when he saw the malice in her eyes, stronger than he'd ever seen in another person. All at once the hiss and bright glow of her blade filled his mind, like it was the only thing he could focus on...

Until the Sith lifted her hand and spoke to him. "You want to kill your captain."

No, she did not speak, at least, not in any normal way he'd ever heard. Rather, her voice echoed in his head, filled it up so that all other thoughts were pushed aside, and he felt his will slipping away.

Though he knew it was his imagination, the cave seemed to darken all around him while Zare's eyes began to glow brighter than the saber in her hand. All he could see were her eyes; all he could hear were her words.

_You want to kill your captain._

"I want-"

Gritting his teeth, Corso desperately tried to find a mental purchase and hang on, but his thoughts were still muggy from the hangover.

It was no use; he wasn't strong enough. This was an enemy he couldn't shoot, couldn't fight. Corso felt despair slip between the remaining cracks of his will and the Sith seemed to feed off of the emotion. Her words echoed louder and sounded strangely reasonable. _You want to kill your captain._

"I...I want to kill you, Captain."

"Corso! Snap out of it!"

Someone was yelling at him, but it was so hard to concentrate. Corso lifted his rifle and skimmed his fingers over the trigger. There was something he was supposed to be doing...

_Captain. _His captain. Tannith. It was her voice he heard, not in his head but at his side. His focus shifted and he realized she was practically in his face, her expression pinched and filled with fury. He blinked at her, and his eyes felt sluggish even as his head began to clear a little. There was something in his hands, something heavy. A rifle. The muzzle was pointed at Tannith and his index finger was resting on the trigger.

"Don't listen to her, Corso," Tan was saying. She reached out and pushed his rifle down, her pale blue eyes locked onto his. Her voice was so calm. How the hell could she be so calm when he'd betrayed her? "It's a trick."

"Captain," he managed. "Tan..."

But he couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate on putting the words together, and everything was a blur. The only thing that felt solid was the crimson-haired woman before him, who was staring at him with an expression that he'd never seen. It was fearful; it was furious.

_She's pissed I tried to kill her, _he thought sadly. _I would be, too. _

Corso wanted to apologize, to try and explain, but there was no time. Someone was shouting again, a male voice that Corso only dimly recognized in his current state. Within moments he heard the clatter and clank of droids approaching the main group, the sound of their durasteel joints echoing off the cavern walls as they surrounded everyone. He heard the distinct sound of weapons being drawn, triggers cocked. The male voice shouted again; Corso watched as Tan whipped out her blaster and glanced his way once more.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, or maybe he was still hungover. He didn't know. What he did know was that Tan shouted at him again, and when he didn't respond, she reached out to shove him backwards as streaks of glowing red plasma began to cross the room, right before his nose. He heard the hum of swinging lightsabers and the air filled with the scent of ozone and hot metal.

Right before the shot hit his chest, time seemed to crawl to a halt. As the bolt struck him, Corso's head was still muddled, so he watched it happen like it was a holo-film. Crimson, bright as an aging star, ambled towards him, seemingly slow enough that he thought he should be able to just step out of the way.

But his legs didn't seem to want to work. When the bolt touched his chest and began to gnaw through his armor, the pain caught him by surprise. Hot was an understatement. It was hotter than twin suns, hotter than a whole galaxy of stars. Hotter than the anger of a Sith. Hotter than the fear of the woman he loved.

Corso tried to suck in a breath, but his lungs felt heavy and worked no better than his kriffing legs. His head swam and he could not open his eyes. Something soft touched his neck and he thought he heard Tan shouting his name again, but it was so hard to get his eyes to open...

When he did, he saw that the Jedi was down but the Sith was up, and making a beeline for his captain. She was on her feet as well, looking his way as she clutched Flashy. Panic seized him, undercut by irritation. Why the kriff was Tan looking at _him_ when Zare was coming for her? Didn't she know what was about to happen?

He wanted to warn her. He tried to shout, but the words got caught in his throat. Maybe she saw something in his eyes, though, for she began to turn around as a flash of metal arced across the room. Corso's brain could make no sense of the sight, and focused instead on the Sith bearing down upon his captain, pale face filled with fury and illuminated green by the lightsaber that was somehow alight and in Tannith's grip.

_Lightsaber...?_

Corso wanted to shout, to shoot, but pain held him prisoner. He'd always thought he'd go down fighting for someone he loved, but right now all he could do was watch, helpless, as the Sith's crimson saber lifted for one final strike against the woman he loved, who stood all alone.

Then, he heard Flashy's song.

* * *

_A/N: Whew! Things got a bit exciting there, huh? _

_Thanks for reading!_

_Next time: "It's not healthy to torque off people with lightsabers."_

_Updated note: While proofing the next chapter, I noticed a pretty big inconsistency with this one, which I have since corrected. The changes to "Trigger" are toward the end. :)_


	28. Tatooine VI: Visible

_FYI, this chapter contains spoilers for the Tatooine portion of the smuggler storyline. As always, I don't own any recognizable dialog._

_As I was proofing this chapter for the umpteenth time, I noticed a pretty big inconsistency with the last chapter. It's since been corrected. The changes to "Tatooine V: Trigger" are toward the end, if you're curious. :)_

_The soundtrack (and inspiration for the title) for this chapter is the instrumental song "Visible," by the composer MitiS, found at _soundcloud dot com (slash) mitis (slash) mitis-visibl_e_

* * *

**Tatooine VI: Visible **

_Lightspring Cavern_

_Moments ago..._

This isn't happening.

As I watch Corso aim Sergeant Boom-Boom at me, part of my brain rebels at the sight, because it can't possibly be real. It must be some sick joke. There's a glassiness in his eyes that lets me know he isn't able to resist Zare's influence, and I curse myself for bringing him along when he's still hungover from last night. It was selfish of me to want him by my side, without regard for his own safety.

"I...I want to kill you, Captain." Kriff, he sounds like he's struggling, and I can see the beads of sweat on his forehead. He's trying to resist the mind-trick. Of course he is. He's a fighter, my Corso.

The Force may not be very strong with me, but there is something I can do, so I get as close to him as I can without actually embracing him like I want. Touching someone who's deep in a mind-trick is not advisable, as they have a tendency to be disoriented when they finally emerge.

"Corso! Snap out of it!" _Please, _I want to beg. _Please, come back to me. _

Everything else falls away: the Sith, the Jedi, that moron Hixan. My world shrinks to the way Corso's eyes begin to blink rapidly, like he's trying to clear his head and focus. Hope unfurls in my chest when he looks at me. His brows are drawn the way they do when he's really confused, and my hope strengthens.

"Don't listen to her, Corso," I say, pushing the muzzle of his rifle down. I'm careful to keep my eyes locked on his, to give him something else to focus on other than Zare's influence.

Honestly, I can't remember the last time I was so thankful to have been trained by the Jedi as a kid. Snapping someone out of a mind-trick is like Jedi 101. _Maintain eye contact with the victim and keep your voice calm and soothing. Speak to them normally, but let them know what's going on to prevent any confusion as they emerge from the trance._

Behind me, I can hear Diago Hixan shouting at the others, but I don't give a kriff about them. If I were to pay them any mind, it'd be bad. There's a deep, dark well of anger inside my heart, and right now it's close to brimming over. If I make the wrong move or even think too much, I know it'll start to boil and I'll lose control.

It feels like hours have passed, but I'm dimly aware that it's only been a matter of moments, so I take a deep breath, keep my gaze on Corso's warm brown eyes and say, "It's a trick."

At last he sucks in his breath, and it's like a veil has been lifted off of his face. "Captain," he gasps. "Tan..."

Sweet stars, he sounds miserable, and I can feel my fury building as I realize how hard this will hit him when he's had time to process this mess. I promise myself that I'll explain later. I'll tell him it's not his fault, that there's nothing he could have done differently. Silently, I promise to give him the whole truth, not just the scraps I've been tossing his way.

Assuming, that is, we get out of this karking mess alive.

A new sound makes me look away from him. Half a second later I watch as a line of droids clatters into the cavern, aiming blasters at everyone but Hixan, who's shouting for them to shoot us all. Fragging coward.

The instant I realize the droids are about to open fire, I whirl back to Corso. "Get the kriff down!"

But he only blinks at me and I realize that he's still in no state to react normally, let alone fight, so I shove him backwards as hard as I can, hoping to at least get him out of the direct line of fire. Not a second too soon, as it turns out, as blaster bolts begin flying all across the room.

Out of instinct, I duck to avoid a direct hit, but Corso...

Duraplast armor smells horrible when it burns. Having never worn it, or even been around it very much until the past six or so months, I wasn't aware of this fact. When Corso is struck by an errant shot the first thing I notice is the scent: acrid, bitter, foul... It's a smell I'm not going to forget any time soon. He's been hit before, of course, but his portable energy shield has always been activated, and so none of the shots have ever hit him directly.

But right now, all that stands between him and scorching plasma is his armor, and as I watch him stumble backwards, reeling from the shot and my push, I see a bloom of charred duraplast spread across his chest.

I think I shout – I'm honestly not sure. It's so loud in the cavern; the droids' relentless blaster-fire richochets off walls and lightsabers, and the grinding of their duranium joints adds a chaotic backdrop to the fight. But after a few seconds it gets quiet again, and in the back of my mind, I note that Nariel and Zare have dispatched the droids and have turned their attention onto one another.

But I don't care about them any more. _None_ of it matters: the Sith, the Jedi, the Empire, the Republic. My stupid secret.

All of my focus goes to Corso, who's lying motionless in a pile of dust and fragments of rock that have been disrupted by the all the blaster-fire. With the Force-users fighting behind me, Tookreek and Diago slaughtered by...someone, probably Nariel, I know that I have a few precious seconds to get Corso some medical attention.

"Corso!" My voice is hoarse and I can hear my own terror as surely as the blood pounding in my ears. "Open your eyes. Corso, look at me."

As I speak, I press my fingers to his neck, trying to feel his pulse. The charred mark on his chest plate looks bad – really bad – but I have no way of knowing the extent of the damage without removing the armor. His pulse is steady and I huff out a breath in relief. Maybe the wind just got knocked out of him-

A cry echoes through the cavern and I whip my head around in time to see Nariel hit the ground, clutching her thigh, where she's sporting a charred mark very similar to Corso's. Lightsabers will do that. She's only injured; her hand still gripping her saber with pale knuckles and there is pain practically radiating off of her.

It's just me and Zare. The Sith hovers over the Jedi for one moment, perhaps thinking to finish Nariel, then she looks at me. My stomach plummets to my knees and my throat gets dry. Her eyes...

It's hard to describe the feeling of looking into a pair of eyes and knowing the person behind them wants to see you die in the slowest, most painful way imaginable.

Let's just say it's really fragging unpleasant.

There's murder written in Zare's every muscle, and it's _my_ death she wants. Corso's too; not because she harbors him any ill will, but because she knows that watching him die would hurt me. I'm _almost_ sorry I tried to shoot her the first time we met.

Kriff, who am I kidding? I'd do it again. Zare deserves a lot worse.

Sith are creatures of lust and greed. They _want. _There's a black hole where their hearts should be, and it sucks in every bit of light and goodness. She wants to see me suffer almost more than she wants my death. Her body cants towards mine. She's coming for me.

Flashy's in my right hand but time is slipping out of my grip. Zare's steps are so fast. She'll be here in a few seconds and I'm shaking with anger and fear. I raise my blaster and try to aim, anyway.

Time slows. I don't understand why; maybe for once in my life, the Force is with me. Time slows and I hear Nariel's call. It's not a shout that echoes through the cavern, but rather a gentle nudge against my consciousness, a sort of _hey, over here! _I risk a glance her way and see her hand lift, moving smoothly through the slowing pace of the moment to toss her lightsaber my way, above Zare's head.

It's a pretty thing, even if it's a little ornate for my taste. I never really noticed before, but as it arcs across the room to my outstretched – _when did that happen? _– left hand, I actually have a second to admire the craftsmanship of the crystal affixed to the pommel. The lightsaber finishes its flight and lands in my palm, resting comfortably, like it was always supposed to be there.

I don't want to notice, but it seems silly to try and push the notion aside when my fingers close around the reality and savor its weight, its heft. Flashy is in one hand; Nariel's saber is in the other, and I'm so grateful for all of those hours of my Initiate-hood spent training with weapons in both hands. Zare is one step away, eyes filled with death and fixed on Corso. My fingers flick on the beam just as she reaches him, but my fear has evaporated.

_You won't take him, _I think, and block her strike. There's no skill to the movement, just instinct; I'm relying solely on the years of training in my childhood. I know I won't last more than a few seconds in a lightsaber duel with Zare.

Crimson clashes with bright, burning green and I feel the shock of the impact reverberating through my arm – it's been a long time since I felt that, and I'm startled at the realization that it feels pretty damn good. Out of ingrained habit, I take a deep breath and press forward a little bit. Zare looks at me, and I see the surprise written across her face. It's genuine surprise, maybe the first she's felt in a long time.

Time has stopped, or at least slowed so much its passage hardly seems measurable. I can see the reflection of Nariel's saber in Zare's eyes, the blazing emerald drowns out the crimson and casts the Sith in such a different light. Another deep breath stills the tremble in my trigger finger and lets me aim.

As always, Flashy responds beautifully to my touch. A single arc of blue plasma leaps from Flashy's throat and lands on the place where Zare's heart lives beneath her chest. A black hole blooms beneath the blaster's searing bite, and Zare's mouth falls open as she stares at me. Her eyes are huge, wide with shock.

In that moment, I almost feel sorry for her.

Well...okay, not really. Not even close. She totally had it coming.

Flashy is merciless and Zare collapses to her knees, her saber deactivating automatically as it falls out of her grip and clatters to the cavern floor. It rolls away. The sound echoes around me, adding a surreal layer to the otherwise quiet area.

Over. It's over.

"Tan..."

Time rushes back, full-speed. I look down and see Corso lying on his side, like he was trying to push himself upright. He's staring at me, open-mouthed, looking even more shocked than Zare. My fingers tighten around the hilts of both weapons, Flashy and Nariel's lightsaber. Flashy is silent but the green blade hums its own little song, and as I watch Corso take in the sight of me, I realize that there's no more hiding.

My stupid secret is out.

* * *

_A/N: Whew. Writing this was intense. I've been visualizing it for a long, long time, but there's something very different about putting an idea down on the screen. _

_Part of Tan's journey is about acceptance of the things she cannot change. That doesn't mean she can't live the kind of life she wants, but that she has to learn how to use her abilities in a context that will suit her needs. She has to learn that she can't run or hide from some truths. _

_Thank you for reading. :)_

_Next time: Well, the wampa's out of the cave...now what? :P_


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